


I Measured the Time and I Stand Amazed

by t0bemadeofglass



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Complete, F/M, Feels, Grief/Mourning, Movie rewrite, Multiple Pov, Prompt Fill, The Dark World Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OR: The Dark World if Natasha had been chosen by the Aether rather than Jane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well I said I'd do it, and I'm finally getting around to it! Yay! Hope you enjoy the first chapter, most of them will be written from Natasha's POV, save a few others that will be switched around in order to provide a well-rounded look at what I feel was SEVERELY missed out in the movie.   
> Enjoy!

How was it that Natasha always got stuck on these crappy missions?  She wasn't a science expert, had no sort of knowledge about science fields or hell even what this supposed shift in normality was supposed to mean.  That was Bruce's area of expertise, not Natasha's, but as the good doctor was in India, and Nat had just come off a mission in Edinburgh, and as the most senior member of SHIELD around Fury had personally stepped in to ask her to check out what was going on, promising an extra vacation day if she "Got the Foster woman off his back."  Apparently Jane had been incredibly persistent, as she was wont to be, and Nat had to hand it to her that her tenacity was definitely an asset.  Well, it would’ve been if it hadn’t interfered with Natasha’s desire to get back home as soon as possible.  She didn’t mind so many missions but really?  She just wanted a little normality.  

Yet there she was, in the shotgun seat beside Doctor Foster's intern, the two women blathering on about the last time they'd had readings like this between the front and back seat.  The poor bastard in the backseat was shooting furtive glances in the rearview mirror to Lewis, who was currently driving (like a maniac, Natasha would be sure to include in her report.  Honestly, who the hell gave this woman a driver's license?), and all Natasha could think about was how she'd rather be home, soaking in the bath, listening to Clint talk her ear off about how bored he was on his own mission: successfully navigating the ins and outs of SHIELD psych care.  Since Loki had taken over his mind, the man hadn't been allowed to leave HQ unless under extreme supervision, hadn't been permitted any sort of contact other than strictly mentioned SHIELD personnel, was given a damn diet to adhere to (though Nat snuck him cotton candy when he was feeling particularly down; it always cheered him up).  All this because the black-haired, spoiled rotten alien of mischief and assholery had decided to get into her best friend's brain and play Operation, tugging and pushing at places that didn't need to be touched.  

Bastard.

"You okay there, super spy?" Darcy Lewis asked from her place beside Natasha, looking over and swerving as a cause of it.  Nat's jaw tightened.  

"Perfectly fine, Lewis.  Eyes on the road." She ordered, knuckles already white from where she'd been clutching her knees, body tense and all too ready to spring into action to take over driving if she had to.  The parking lot they were directed to thanks to the whatever meter Jane Foster held was deserted, the warehouses that bit into the concrete dilapidated and run down enough to keep Nat on edge.  They were sure this was the place that they had had the curious readings?  Whatever.  She'd worked in similar places, she supposed, and much worst.  Jane led them inside the building, the meter held out in front of her, technobabble spewing from her lips fast enough to compete with Tony when he and Bruce got on a roll.  Impressive, Nat had to admit, and it was even more so that Darcy and the Intern seemed to keep up with it.  Science never had been Natasha's strong suit.  She knew just enough about the biological workings about her own body and that was it.  Any more than that and she had Tony and Bruce on speed dial for a reason.  

There were soft patterings and Nat immediately pulled a gun out from its hidden place at her side, the jacket she'd pulled on earlier that day to combat the chill having hid it perfectly.  Jane's eyes grew wide as silver dollars as she heard the clicking of the gun, but a moment later four children stepped out of the shadows, looking at the adults with plain fear in their eyes.  Fear Nat had once known too much about.  Slowly she put the gun away as Jane talked the children into leading them towards the curious spot they all seemed to have honed in on, ad Darcy shot Nat an interested side look as they walked.  

"So, always prepared, huh?" She teased, eyeing the place where Natasha's gun had disappeared.  "That's impressive."

"Part of the job, Darcy," Natasha said, blue eyes boring through the glasses and into the gaze of the other woman.  

"Ever use a taser?" The brunette asked, her chest puffing out with pride.  Before Nat could say anything she went on. "Because I did.  And it was on Thor.  He went down like a sack of potatoes and it was awesome."

Nat decided against bringing up the Widow Bites she normally kept on her at all times.  Darcy didn't need to know.  It would be just her luck that the girl would start asking for them from SHIELD for herself saying that it was important to keeping herself safe if she was going to be a part of the organization (Over Nat’s dead body, if she was honest), and then she’d have Fury’s knowing glance to deal with and it just wasn’t worth it.  Not even a little.  

“Yeah, once or twice.”  A week.  “Nice job getting Thor, though.”  

“Thanks!”  She couldn’t have looked any more pleased with herself about it as she followed Jane and the kids up a couple flights of stairs, Nat close behind, eyes darting from Darcy to the surrounding, likely empty halls of the old building.  There was something else, if she was honest with herself.  A strange wind draft that didn’t make sense with the rest of the layout, a weird sense to the place that couldn’t put her finger on.  Goosebumps ran up her spine and covered her body.  Decades of training was all that kept Nat from rubbing them away, letting it make her eyesight more keen and her senses sharper.  Jane was exclaiming as she watched one of the kids throw a piece of trash down from a higher level, and with a half interested glance Nat watched it fall.  What was so special--.

The piece of trash disappeared and Nat swallowed thickly, head snapping up viper-quick to watch it reappear from higher up and fall once more into the bottom portal.  What was it that Tony said all the time from that video game he’d obsessed over for a week?  _‘Now you’re thinking with--.’_

“What is that?” Darcy asked, her eyes wide and her lips falling into a wide, open mouthed-grin.  

The explanation couldn’t have mattered less to Nat, who watched as Jane threw a piece of trash from her side of the walk into the portal.  When it didn’t reappear they all looked, curious, to the young girl who seemed to be the ringleader of the band of kids.  Middle to low class, based on the thin coat she was wearing, decent personal grooming for a child so someone cared enough about her to pay attention, yet not enough to ask where she was after school on a Wednesday afternoon.  Grammar seemed decent enough to suggest she did well enough in school, and the way she held herself screamed confidence.  She’d certainly been quick enough to speak up when they’d discovered by the wandering adults.  

She tucked the observation away for another day, turning instead to the strange sucking noise she swore she heard just down one of the hallways, pervading even over Darcy’s insistence to her intern for him to hand her his shoe and Jane’s explanation for the phenomenon going right over her head.  She could think what she wanted about the woman’s character, but her intelligence was beyond question.  Again, she cleared her head, focusing instead on following the strange noise.  Her gun was out in a heartbeat and trained on the ground, movements slow, as she stepped towards the noise, flicking her head side to side to see if she couldn’t pinpoint where it was exactly coming from.  It didn’t seem to have a point of origin that she could find, isolating the noise to that coming from just beyond a large pair of doors, which she angled open with nimble fingers.  The wood creaked and Natasha eased her way in, stepping down the hall after finding nothing but open space with more trash in front of her.  What the hell could it have been?

Against her will, her body began to slide forward, heels of her boots catching on the ground, and even as she was dragged closer, heart going a mile a minute, she released a slew of bullets at the space she was being pulled to.  Little good they did, passing right through the air and disappearing just before the world around Nat pitched itself forward.  Dirt came up hard and biting against her palms as she fell to her knees on the edge of a cliff, the bottom of which she couldn’t see but her gun had no problem tumbling into.  Cursing, she blinked rapidly, attempting to acclimate her eyes to the sudden darkness where there had once been light.  The same sucking noise from before came from behind her now, and after taking a deep breath to clear her head she stood up, careful not to take a step too far.  She didn’t want to know what would happen should she fall.  

Just behind her stood a large rectangular stone, an odd red light coming from an inch thick crack between two large slabs of stone, the origin of the noise.  What was more, it almost seemed to call out to her, as though her curiosity wasn’t piqued already.  Feet silent on the dirt, she worked her way closer, right hand ghosting over the dagger she always kept at her side just in case.  A strange red tendril of what looked like smoke--or maybe it was water?  She couldn’t be sure, not exactly a good judge of the odd--snuck out from the space between the two.  Again the whisperings started up, her breath catching in her throat as she heard her voice being called, two more tendrils reaching out to her.  To her?  No.  Impossible.  Smoke, or water, or whatever the fuck it wasn’t didn’t do that.  She stepped alongside the side of it, taking in every possible detail, from the odd, illegible writing on the edge of the stone slabs.  She took a half step backwards as another whisp of the substance stretched towards her, and a roaring filled her ears as it curved closer.  No.  This wasn’t right.  

The quick sidestep away was, in hindsight, not the greatest of ideas.  While she thought it might get her away the fastest the substance lashed out, the roaring growing louder as the red liquid stretched towards her, sinking into her veins as though her skin didn’t exist.  The roaring grew louder in her ears and she felt her feet being lifted from the ground as power and fire and ice clouded her bloodstream, the cavern around her pitched into deep red.  

“Natalia Romanova,” a sweet hiss echoed over the roaring, and her head tipped back as strength she was unfamiliar with kissed every inch of her body, as sweet and caring as any lover.  She felt a moan tip from her lips, felt her body arch and absorb the gift of the red substance.  She saw Russia in front of her, the Red Room, Ivan--the bastard--bent over the battered body of a young woman with red curls and broken blue eyes.  Saw his brains splattered on the walls.  She could do that, now.  She could do whatever she wanted, could set fire to the damn world and laugh as she walked through the flames without being burned, could pitch the world into eternal darkness at her every whim if she wished it--.

_‘No.’_

 

When she opened her eyes it the world around her was a strange blur, the painted glass of the window panes above her filtering the last rays of the afternoon, the air chilly but not uncomfortable around her.  Her gun was back in its holster, her arms crossed over her midsection.  As she sat up she scratched at her veins.  Had she really fallen asleep?  Where was the doctor and the two idiot interns?  

She rose on firm legs and with a firmer resolve to find her charges, unable to believe she’d been such an idiot as to wander off.  _‘Rookie mistake, Romanov.’_

The flashing lights of the police cars set her off first and quickened her pace as she pounded down the last of the stairs and strode quickly towards the disheveled looking doctor.  Foster’s face lit up when she caught sight of Natasha, her mouth opening and asking where the hell she’d been.  Nat frowned.  

“You got into trouble after I was gone for maybe ten minutes?”  She asked, incredulous.  Ridiculous.  No wonder Coulson had taken Nat aside to warn her of how reckless the woman could be--.  

But it didn’t make sense.  Even before Jane told her she’d been gone for hours it had clicked in Nat’s head, the position of the sun not coinciding with where she’d remembered it being upon entering the empty warehouse.  She could worry about that later, the police officer having turned to her to demand a response.  Without batting an eyelash Nat pulled out a badge, deadpanning her explanation why they were there and giving him a number where he could take his complaint to her superior officer.  

It didn’t do it for the man, but before he could get another word out Jane pulled Natasha aside, the humming of her machine having gotten to be too loud for the doctor to ignore.  

“What happened to you?”  Jane asked, her eyes rising to meet Nat’s as she looked her over quick.  Real concern flashed quick in her gaze and Nat almost felt bad for all the terrible things she’d thought earlier, when she’d been made to tail the doctor, even on her date.  

“I couldn’t say,” she said, tight lipped even when Jane’s face flickered with hurt.  “Sorry--until I get SHIELD to clear it I really don’t have anything to report.”  She couldn’t help that it was procedure, and besides she didn’t want the doctor to start freaking out.  She’d had enough of that from a life time of spying and having to report to the med bay afterwards.  She’d much rather deal with it herself.  

Jane’s mouth opened to contest it, her brow pulled tight in a frown when Nat held up her hand.  Her eyes caught on the surrounding cars and police officers that had started huddling under hoods and jackets pulled up over their heads as rain poured down around them, yet Natasha and Jane were as dry as ever.  The rain seemed to arc around them, Nat realized, as she turned around to check it out, the dry land made a perfect circle and--.  

A blood-red cape caught her eye, the enormous, blond man it belonged to staring at her from behind a large pillar a few feet in the distance, having appeared out of thin air, his brow drawn tight and his blue eyes burning into hers with a mix of confusion and concern.  Behind Natasha the scientist gasped, and Nat could practically feel the woman’s heart surging in her chest.  It’d been two years since the pair had last seen one another, and though the doctor had started dating and it was suggested that she’d moved on, Nat severely doubted it.  

Not that she really had time to think about that.  No, her mind was too busy screaming at the idiot alien for leaving in the first place, for even coming to earth in the first place and opening it up to invaders and his brother, the latter who'd nearly tried to take it for himself, the great fool.  Quick feet brought her close, and brought the circle of rainless sky with her so that Jane had to hurry to catch up if she wanted to stay dry.  

"Where the hell do you think you've been?" Natasha demanded before Jane or Thor could get a word out, making them both stare at her in surprise.  For Jane it was probably one of the closest times she'd seen Nat to losing her temper, Thor, too, though he'd seen her after the battle of New York, at her very weakest and most vulnerable.  If anyone could take it, he could.  

"I'm sorry, but there was work to be done in order to right what the others have set in motion, other realms that needed to be saved from the marauders and--."

"Couldn't care.  Something's up," she said with the wave of her hand, effectively silencing what she was certain was, in all fairness, a very good alibi.  

Jane gaped, her jaw opening.  "I care!  You promised you'd come back," she accused Thor.  

It was all Nat could do not to roll her eyes.  Really?  They had to go through the whole explanation, then?  Weren’t there more important questions to be asked, like why the hell he was back so suddenly?  

"Handle it later, please.  Anyway Doctor Foster, I'm pretty sure you'd be better closer to home with someone who understand half the crap that comes out of your mouth."  Nat cut in, feeling the ground suddenly go woozy and wobbly beneath her, the words having slipped from her lips without meaning them to.  Shit.  That'd never happened before.  Idly she wondered whether or not she'd get into trouble with Fury for speaking her mind so candidly, and possibly alienating the Doctor from Shield's tenuous good graces, but before she could manage her first apology to the woman she'd fallen backwards onto the ground.  Jane reached out to grab her, the nearest, but the blast of red energy shot her backwards onto the ground and nearly managed to topple over Thor.  Nat would've been impressed if she wasn't blinking quickly just to stay awake, the ground coming up to meet the back of her head.  Hard.  What the hell was that?  Thor rushed to Jane’s side, first, to make sure that she was alright, before slowly inching towards Natasha, unsure what he’d find when he neared.  She didn’t blame him, and as Jane stood up Thor urged her to go back.  

“This is beyond my knowledge,” he admitted with a shake of his head, looking purplexed as he checked Natasha’s face for understanding.  “I would have the healers on Asgard see what they can do,” he murmured, his gaze apologetic.  Through hazy eyes Nat barely caught Jane’s nod of understanding, the woman far more caring than Natasha would’ve expected considering Nat had been so short with the poor woman.  She’d have to apologize for more, she supposed, before Thor’s large hand pulled her up to her feet by the shoulder.  

“Alright.  I’ll let SHIELD know what happened,” Jane was saying, far more level headed than Nat would’ve expected.  Her sense of surprise in the doctor’s ability to think under pressure, to be so calm when everything else seemed so outlandish, was definitely a mark in the woman’s favor.  She supposed it was always nice to be proved wrong, though she’d have to revisit the revelation when her head wasn’t so fuzzy.  As it was she barely managed a thanks, dipping her head in the woman’s direction.  Jane’s tight smile was enough for her.  

“Jane, I will return,” Thor promised, and though Nat was sure Jane had heard that one too many times, any response she might’ve had was cut off by the circle of rainbow light that surrounded Nat and Thor completely.  Again her ears filled with the sound of rushing air, and when she managed to open her eyes completely and consciously look around her, she found that they were zipping through--.

_‘No way.’_

She recognized the constellations and the stars that flew past them, having stared at the stars with Barton many a time during their resting time on missions, Hawkeye having wanted a clear view of the sky and a high enough vantage point for him to locate the perp when the time came, and Nat having been too bored to refuse him.  More than that, planets moved past them, huge and more colorful and numerous than she could’ve ever imagined.  As her mind sharpened again she couldn’t help but reach out to try and touch the passing by bursts of light and color, the inky sky dotted with so many she could hardly believe they all existed.  Incredible.  

All too soon they landed, Natasha’s feet coming into contact with the dark black, marble flooring of what looked like an extravagant observatory, coming to stand in front of a very tall man decked in gold from head to toe.  Her eyes went wide for half a second before schooling her face.  He was enormous, and with the gold of his helm all she could think of was the ridiculous one that Loki wore when she’d first seen him in Stuttgart.  Must’ve been an Asgardian thing.  Thor came to stand beside Natasha, one of his hands doing his best to still and steady her, though she no longer needed it.  The care for her well-being was appreciated, though.  With a slow “shing” noise the enormous sword in the soldier’s hand slid out of the platform that had once sheathed it, placing the point of it on the ground right before him instead, while his gold, nearly glowing, gaze focused on her.  She could’ve sworn he saw through her, saw through the brave face she put on while she was desperate to break character for once to just take a look around at the gilded room around her.  Her cheeks nearly heated up at the invasion of privacy.  

“Welcome to Asgard, Natasha Romanov,” he said, voice as intimidating as his figure, and though she’d faced opponents that were larger than he, and far more dangerous to boot, this was one man she wanted very much on her side.  

“Come, we’ll speak with the healers to see what is happening to you,” Thor murmured in her ear, taking her hand in his own to pull her gently away from her firm footing.  Without question she followed.  

 


	2. Chapter 2

Loki glanced around in disdain at his surroundings, his lip curled upwards as his gaze fell on the books that Frigga had left him.  He’d been in his cell for--he was guessing a couple months, though without any sort of window it was near impossible to tell.  He was fed, certainly, a meal a day and nothing more, and each day brought with it a new set of vagabonds, slave traders, mercenaries, and general idiots who were stupid enough to get themselves caught by his oaf of an adopted brother and his sycophantic friends.  He supposed he could consider them companions if he got desperate enough, though that time would be centuries down the road, when he was dumbed down to drooling in the corner from lack of anything interesting to do or think about.  Almost mindlessly his fingers clasped around the top book, the one he’d been staring at, and flipped open to a familiar page, a blank, white mask staring up at him, the owner of which had his hands stretched upwards.  He knew the book well, had dog-eared and marked it when he grew up and learned to read, had loved this story more than he likely ought to have. _‘Perhaps it was the first marking of a monster,’_ he thought with a snide smirk, slipping down onto his paper thin mattress to eye the well-worn pages.

 

_“Tell us the story of the dark elves, mother!”  Loki begged his mother, tugging at her purple robes, grinning up at her with the biggest, brightest eyes he could manage, as Thor bounced around the room, his fake sword held aloft as he came to jump on their bed._

_“I’ll slay them all!”  He proclaimed, already showing the signs of a warrior, while Loki had been thin and quick even in youth.  The blond princeling turned his broad grin to his brother and mother, the latter of which was chuckling in earnest before chiding him to get down, off the bed, and taking the book from Loki’s outstretched hands in order to move and sit on the other, unoccupied bed.   Eagerly, Loki walked beside her, curling up beside her lap as she cracked the book, Thor coming to sit on her other side, both sets of eyes watching the pages shift and come alive with amazement._

_“Born of eternal night,” the queen started in her finest reading voice, powerful enough to give both boys shivers.  “The dark elves come to steal the light.  Their leader was Malekith, the strongest, and most cunning of the dark elves, for he held a weapon the others could only dream about.  The Aether was beautiful, its red hue magical, and also dangerous, for with control of it came the ability to turn anything the light touched into something of darkness.”_

_Loki couldn’t help the breath that caught in his throat, watching as the red liquid, shifting on the page in the dark elf’s hand, touched the rays of the sun just atop the page, and with contact the light began to go out, darkening where before it had once illuminated the page.  At her other side, Thor tensed, and Frigga grinned to see her boys so engrossed in the story._

_“Malekith sought to turn the world into the same darkness that the universe and nine realms had been borne from, wished to return everything to the way that it once had been.  Though his intentions began as those in which he could better the living conditions of his people, the power of the Aether was vast and all-encompassing, consuming him until he could not see beyond his desire to control and destroy those who stood in his path.  The Aesir, who wished to keep the nine realms safe and were led by your great-grandfather Bor, invaded Svartalfheim, where Malekith and his armies had amassed, and at the base of the Aether’s home the two races fought.  Malekith bided his time, watching as his men laid down their lives for the sake of their leader, while above him the convergence gathered strength.”_

_“What’s the convergence again?” Thor butted in, his eyes dark with confusion as he stared at the illustration on the pages, the circles that aligned slowly, then passed further away from one another._

_“It’s when the nine realms align, idiot,” Loki scoffed.  “Every five-thousand years.”_

_“Don’t call me an idiot, Loki!” Thor countered with a heavy scowl and a mean look ._

_“Then listen to the story, buffoon!” Loki shouted._

_“Boys,” Frigga said, and though her voice was calm there was an edge to it both of them knew better than to cross, her eyes falling on each of them in turn.  “No name calling or bickering or I’ll shut the book now and leave you to rest.”_

_“No!” Came the identical chorus from both of them, causing Frigga to smile a little.  Good._

_“As the convergence gathered above him, Malekith turned to the Aether, knowing that the weakened space between the realms would only amplify its power, but at the last moment, before he could summon the power into his body the bifrost pulled it from Svartalfheim, hiding it deep somewhere in the nine realms where Malekith and his kin could never, ever find it again.  In his fury, the leader sacrificed his own people in order to exact his revenge upon Bor and those who had defeated him.”_

_The last page showed the enormous battle ships of the dark elves, towering masses of black technology, that crashed and crumpled upon the rocky ground.  Loki could all but hear the screams of those who died in the battle, the soldiers slain by their leader and opponent, all dead in the end no matter what.  Too great was such a cost._

_“What happened to the Aether?” He asked, wide eyes staring up at his mother.  She closed the book to look at him, watched the way that he thirsted for knowledge, his whole body practically trembling for it._

_“It has never been found,” she said, leaning over to kiss his forehead and envelop him in a tight hug, before doing the same to Thor._

_“I will find it,” Thor vowed, grinning when she pulled away and pushing his blond hair from his eyes, the same blond hair as Frigga’s.  Often a time Loki envied him those yellow locks, wished that he had such a strong connection to their mother.  “I will find it and destroy it.”_

_Frigga smiled and ruffled his hair, stepping off the bed so Loki could get settled in, his mother tucking him in first before attending to Thor._

_“Never lose sight of what is important, Thor.  You both will have many adventures to come,” she assured them, setting the book down beside the table.  “But your family is most important.  Stick together, believe in one another, and the pair of you can accomplish anything--even find and destroy the Aether,” she added, striding with quiet steps towards the door.  In the frame she paused, and with the flick of her wrist the lights went out.  “Goodnight my loves.”_

_“Goodnight mother,” they chorused, and though Thor was out nearly as soon as Frigga had shut the door Loki reached over to the book, opening it and watching as it came to light and replayed the story in front of his eyes again and again until he fell asleep with it pressed to his chest._

 

“That was always your favorite,” Frigga’s voice came behind Loki, and he might’ve jumped if he didn’t feel so betrayed by his own memories.  Instead all that came to him was anger, absolute and never ending rage.  Thor called himself his brother, said they were equals all through life, and yet he sat on the pampered seat of the favorite child, the first born, the heir and true son of Asgard’s king.  

And Loki?  Loki rotted.  Loki seethed and schemed and hated the man who once called him brother.  

“Was it not you who said Thor and I ought to never forget that we were family?” He demanded, spitting the last word out as though it were poison, whipping his head around to stare at her, eyes demanding truth.  It was nothing more than a specter, a shade cast by his mother to check on him, and though he would never admit that he appreciated the company now he didn’t want it at all.  

“I did,” she said, refusing, as ever, to back down from him, her own chin rising in defiance.  “But you broke that pact between Thor and yourself when you turned your back on his help.”  Snarling, he watched her resolve deepen beneath her blue eyes and before he could think of a witty enough retort found himself thinking of another woman who’d stood toe to toe with him, refused to accept any of his word games or mischief, who’d played him for a fool.  

_‘Natasha Romanov.’_

The spy had often occupied his thoughts, he hated to say, never wanting to admit to just how she’d affected him from their few brief encounters.  He despised her for what she’d done, for the fool she’d made of him, yet somewhere deep inside there was--well, surprise, and respect.  

He wasn’t sure if it helped her or only made him hate her more, want to take her pale throat between his hands and squeeze until he saw the light leave her blue eyes, or else slam her against the wall and press his lips hard to hers--.  

“Leave me,” he demanded his mother, throwing the book at her shade.  It passed through her, and though he regretted it not a moment later it was too late to do anything, the book dissolving where it hit the ground as she reclaimed it.  A new one took its place, an old journal of Loki’s she must have found while going through his belongings.  He left it where it materialized on the floor, lying down on the bed and trying to think of something, anything, besides the spy and the words his mother had left him.  Remorse and regret were not a dishes Loki enjoyed sampling.  

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, and thanks for being patient with me as school starts back up and I start a new job! You are all amazing

It was all Natasha could do not to gawk as she was led down what was called the rainbow bridge, the golden city looming far ahead, yet at the same time she didn't think any amount of distance would be enough to fully grasp the enormity of it all, the largest of the buildings stretching even higher than the Stark tower, she was certain.  It was incredible, making her mouth go dry as she fell into stride beside Thor, grateful for his hand on her shoulder.  

"What happened, Lady Natasha?" He asked, his expression serious as he watched her awestruck face sober up as it turned to him.  "Heimdall was looking for Jane when he found you--no offense, of course.  I know you to be a capable warrior who does not need the aid of others to keep herself safe," he said, words quick in order to keep from angering her.  It made her lips quirk up.  

"Just Natasha," Nat assured him.  "And what did Heimdall see?  He was the man that we just met, right?" She asked, trying to get all the names right.  There were just so many; Tony hadn't been far off the mark when it came to comparing them to Shakespeare.  

"You disappeared.  He was watching as the lady Jane studied the convergence, thinking that SHIELD was likely interested in the goings on of the nine realms as well, when you disappeared.  He was unable to find you, and when I came to discover what had happened you had reappeared.  I am curious as to why and what had changed, what you found that would do such a thing."  He paused.  "And what the red material is that made you so weak."

Well, that made two of them, and while Jane might have swooned that he cared about her well-being so much, Natasha was simply worried that he was as clueless about it as she was.  Perhaps he was simply unaware of magic related injuries, or serums or something.  She hoped.  

"And you think your healers can help?" She asked, glad for the decades of training that kept the worry from her voice, swallowing thickly as she looked up at him, searching his face for some sort of clue.  He was always so open.  Or rather, he had been.  The time he spent away from Earth had changed him, it would seem, new lines of worry and of responsibility etching his brow.  Sh wondered how many were put there from his idiot of a brother, and what had happened on earth when he'd had to confront him.  She leaned over to squeeze his hand gently, and his eyes lit up a little with the touch.  

"I have no certainties, I can only hope," he said, voice quiet but tone sincere as they continued to walk.  The city streets were busy, and though Natasha earned quite a few second glances and whispers seemed to follow her no matter where she went, they did not seem to resent her for being mortal, or even come up to question what was going on.  Their lives continued on without pause.  It was curious, as when Thor and Loki had come her world had seemed to slow down for them, had taken note of their differences and catalogued it against them.  Though in Loki's case it was understandable, Thor hardly deserved the blame he was getting in the media for what had happened, or the slander against him for having disappeared after the damage had been done, without sticking around to help with the clean up or to aid those who grieved the loss of those they loved.  

 _'It wasn't his fault,'_ Natasha couldn't help but think as he led her through narrow streets and those that twisted, the pair making their way towards the very center of the city, the enormous building she'd gawked at before. _'It's not as though he asked for any of it.  He struggles as much as we all do.'_

These thoughts were forced from her mind as Thor brought her up to the castle, the splendor of the building itself taking her breath away, and she was sure that for once her face betrayed just how surprised she was.  It was incredible, impossible to believe that this had been here for so long and yet no one else had seen it before she had, absolute light years away from Earth yet strong as any of the buildings she'd once called home, including Stark Tower.  

"This is gorgeous," she breathed as Thor led her through enormous, arching hallways after hallway, towards what he called the healer's chambers where she would be examined, and though normally such tests on her body would put her on high alert due to the usual abnormalities that would bring up a lot of questions, but with Thor and his people she was sure they would be prepared for a certain level of difference in her genetic make up.

"Thank you.  It was built long before I was born, around the time the universe itself began."  Thor smiled fondly as he looked around the gilded halls, offering his hand as he led her further inside, not wishing her to get lost as she openly gawked at the world around them.  She tried to pull herself back in as best she could.  

"How old are you, Thor?" She asked quietly.  "I mean.  I hope that's not too rude--."

"It is not," he assured her with a small smile.  "Loki and I are both around a thousand years old, though I am older than he by a couple of decades, which is why there's not much of a difference in our appearance."

Right.  And she thought people would have a hard time adjusting to how old SHE really was, that was nothing in comparison to those two, who were likely as many years apart as she had under her belt.  She schooled her face not to show too much surprise, just vague disbelief and interest, and he seemed to relax from it, as though he'd expected her to freak out.  Just how many others had, she wondered?  Maybe that explained why Tony looked on the man with wide eyes each time he entered the room before eventually pulling himself back.  Nat had always just thought it was because of Thor's rather impressive physique and hadn't blamed him in the slightest.  Heck, if she was honest there were still days she wanted to poke him just to see if it was really that well defined.  And maybe to run her hands over the muscle-rippled torso and well defined pecs was high up on her "Want to do" list.  She was only human, no matter how much the serum had played with her genetics, and if he didn't apologize for how damn attractive he was then she wasn't going to apologize for looking and enjoying the view.  

Her tour through the halls of Asgard finally ended with another large room, this one seeming to be on the eastern side of the castle, with enormous panes of windows at least three times Natasha's height stretching from floor to ceiling and still not touching either.  There was a gaggle of women surrounding one occupied bed while a myriad of others stood empty and sterile to watch Natasha and Thor as they proceeded down the length of the room towards whom Nat could only assume were the medics of the world.  At the sound of their footsteps they broke away from the one patient, bowing with one hand crossing their chest to meet the opposite shoulder, though one healer continued to work on the man's wounds.  

"I am sorry ladies, but my friend requires your best advice; she is quite ill." Thor said.  

Had it been anyone else they likely wouldn't have taken the job, Natasha thought, watching as each of them gave her the quick up and down, not ascertaining any physical wounds but surely taking in her foreign clothing and the two visible weapons at her side, even if they didn't know what guns were, as well as the knives still on her person should she run out of ammo.  Either way she was led into the rooms on the western side of the enormous room, these ones darkened and much smaller, more intimate, and Natasha was bid to remove her weapons and lay them to the side before crawling up on the raised table in front of her.  She was loathe to do either, the quickest of flashes of laying on a table in a dim-lit room in Russia as the men who surrounded her played God with her body, but she caught Thor's strained look, the genuine concern in his face, and was determined not to add to that.  

Stripped of her protection, she climbed, feeling far more naked than she had in some time, and watched as the space in front of her was filled with golden threads of light, mimicking her body in every way as it hovered just above her on the healer's levels.  She watched them work with curious eyes but kept her silence, always an observer.  As she tapped her fingers at her side she saw her golden duplicate do the same, and the corners of her lips quirked into a smile.  

"Real interesting technology you've got here," She said, flicking her eyes up towards Thor, who smiled at her words, his entire expression softening.  "Tony would have a hay day."

"You are remarkably calm about foreign technology," one of the woman at Natasha's side murmured, and when Nat turned her gaze to look back at her, she caught the briefest hint of a smile.  So they had been as apprehensive as she had been about letting a human onto Asgardian technology.  Interesting.  

"I've seen and done far too much to keep asking questions," she murmured.  

The woman gave the smallest, approving tip of her head, and Nat took that to heart as a good sign.  As Clint would say: One for Nat, zero for Asgardian perceptions of humans.  

She tried not to think about the way he'd shout at her for going off planet without telling him what was going on.  Whoops.  

As the woman beside her worked, Natasha’s eyes shifted to watch the healer with Thor, watched as his brow furrowed while she murmured to him, and wasn’t sure what to make of it.  Were they unaware of what was wrong with her?  The soulforge, as the woman was calling it, didn’t seem to be helping any, and it only made her heart leap into her throat.  Shit.  What the hell was it that she touched?

“Have you taken too many blows to the head that you no longer can comprehend the simplest of orders?” A rough voice called out from the side of the room, and the golden threads of light above Natasha disappeared as she sat up slowly, eyes flirting with her gun.  She didn’t need it, not yet.  This man--based on his armor, the way he held himself, and the whole one-eye thing--had to be the king.  Odin.  Which meant she kept her mouth shut.  She wasn’t supposed to be there anyway by the sounds of the pair of them bickering, Odin claiming that the doctors on Earth would be able to help her with whatever this sickness, or something, was.  She doubted it.  

“Allfather it is unlike anything else I have seen--.”

“She belongs with her people, Thor.  Avenger or not, she has healers called doctors, and that is where you must take her.  Guards.”

Natasha shied away from the two men approaching her.  “Don’t touch me,” she said, trying to pull away.  She didn’t want to hurt them.  The one on her left growled and reached out anyway, and the same blast of red smoke pushed him back and onto the floor, the other guard following suit.  Thor swore under his breath as he moved closer, Natasha’s head tipping back until it hit the table again.  Memories of when she was little, of men coming at her with vodka to numb her head and surgical tools and fire and pain and--.

“Shhh, Natasha, you are well.  You are safe,” Thor promised, stroking the side of her face as he cupped it.  She only realized then, as she started coughing, that she’d been screaming.  

“I’m sorry,” she scratched, blinking furiously as her whole body went tense.  She saw the fire, felt it burning her, saw it burning away at her body and at Russia, before she blinked again and she caught herself in Thor’s bright gaze.  “So sorry.”   She felt the sleeve of her right arm being rolled back as coarse fingers rubbed at her wrist, and tipped her eyes to the side to see Odin frowning down at it, as though trying to decipher a puzzle.  

“What’s wrong with me?” She asked hoarsely, trying to catch his attention, watching as he pursed his lips tightly before pulling away.  

“Both of you come with me,” he insisted, waiting as Thor helped Natasha up to her feet and through the door, one hand gently wrapped around her torso.  

“What is inside of her, father?” Thor asked, his voice sounding rougher than normal, his pace quicker than what Nat could comfortably keep up with so she ended up half running to catch up with the pair of them, looking from one to the other to try and figure out what was going on, what they weren’t telling her.  Why was Thor so afraid?

“Do you recall the story of the Dark Elves, Thor?” Odin called back to them, leading them through the infirmary, through the hallways, and into another, seemingly endless room, the ceiling stretching far past what Natasha could see, thick roots and tree trunks circling through the room, thrumming like veins.  At the barely visible tops of the shorter trees shimmering with spheres of multi-colored lights.  The trunks seemed to go further than Natasha’s eyes could see, and when she looked down at the tiled floor beneath her she saw that they stretched down through a hole in the ground, and once more disappeared from her sight.  

“Yes, I do,” he said.  “They attempted to take the realms back to the way they were before the light came in.  Right?” Thor asked, sounding more like a student trying to answer a question correctly than a prince soon to be king.  Interesting how he changed around his father.  “The Dark Elves come to steal the light.”  

“Correct,” Odin said, stepping into a smaller antechamber, this one filled with books in languages even Nat, with all her linguistic skills, couldn’t begin to decipher.  The Allfather frowned as he looked in the shelves, confused.  “Where in the nine realms did that bloody book go?”

“Here, father,” Thor offered, finding it on the side table that he and Natasha had stopped in front of, her head still spinning.  She might’ve fallen down, to her displeasure and embarrassment, if not for Thor holding tight to her.  She was thankful for it, and in her slight lull she leaned over to press her cheek to his hand, the heat of his skin warming her and chasing at the chill settling into her bones.  He shifted his fingers so that they rubbed her cheek gently and she was thankful for the comfort it brought.  Meanwhile, Odin flipped pages to show them what he was talking about, a man with a white mask extending his arms as a red liquid left his hands and turned the sun above him dark.  She frowned.  

“The Aether?” She asked, fixating on the term he threw out.  

“Yes.  The very same now flows through your veins.  It will consume you, body and soul, as it protects its host.  It is beginning already,” he said with a frown as he tipped her chin upwards, searching her eyes with his one.  “I can see it already.  You see your past, the horrors of it and what to do to avenge it, do you not?” He asked.  

Natasha nodded.  What was the point in lying?  “Can you get it out of me?” She asked, voice quiet.  She didn’t dare hope.  

“No.”  


	4. Chapter 4

The cells seemed to be in constant movements these days, Loki supposed, staring out from behind the clear wall of his prison.  He was pointedly ignoring Frigga, not wanting to admit that her presence, even if it was a specter of the woman he’d once called mother, was a great comfort to him.  So instead his green eyes took in the admittance of new prisoners, vagabonds, pirates, marauders from the outskirts of the nine realms and beyond.  He’d once thought himself above them.  Still did, if he was honest with himself, his shoulders straightening and his eyes darkening as he took in a burly that walked past his cell with a gruff grunt.  These pirates had once thought themselves so strong, unbeatable, but Loki had seen true power.  Wielded it for a fraction of a moment before it slipped through his fingers.  Had seen it used, and had it used on him after he’d fallen.  Thanos was an avid believer in setting examples, and Loki had more than once tasted what failure would have meant.  He was not eager for it to ever come to him again, and knew that so long as Thanos was aware that he lived he would never be free of the Titan’s shadow.

Frigga had, more than once, suggested that that was Odin’s truth behind keeping him locked up.  As ever he ignored her protests and pleas to reconsider his own hate for those he had once called kin, Frigga of course being the only exception.  He could never hate her.  

“Loki, do you intend to ignore me forever?”  Her voice said quietly, and he could sense her stepping closer, rather than hear her.  Shades made no noise, yet when he screamed it still reverberated around the walls.  

“Perhaps,” he said, allowing the corners of his lips to twist upwards.  “Would that make you angry?”

“You give yourself far too much credit if you think a little of the silent treatment can irritate me.  Have I not dealt with you and Thor in your youth?  I have the both of you to thank for many of my grey hair.”

Yes.  He didn’t want to think about that, though, about how much more stress he’d piled upon her since his fall from Asgard, since the mayhem caused in Midgard.  Since his lock up here.  How many more lines had been added to her face?  How much more would he cause her, still, to know that her youngest was a hunted, wanted man with two choices before him: waste away in the dungeons, or be set freed and likely turn prey to the Chitauri and whatever foes Thanos saw fit to send after him?

Perhaps he ought to rip out her heart to save her the pain.  

Even before his fists tightened at his side with the repulsion that thought provided he knew it was no good.  He could not do this without her strength.  Where once he’d thought he relied on Thor’s brawn and unfailing belief that his brother was, in fact, good, he came to see now that it was Frigga.  It always had been.  She smiled out at him from Thor’s bright eyes and broad grins, when the oaf smacked Loki upside the head for being an ass it was Frigga’s reproachful eyes that followed him.  

And oh how he hated the man he once called brother for it, that he should inherit the goodness that was Frigga while Loki was stuck with the wickedness of Laufey.  

“Loki, do not turn away from me,” she murmured.  “I have done everything in my power to make you comfortable here.”  

He turned to stare at her, knowing his gaze was cruel, that the words jumping out of his mouth would only hurt.  Silvertongue that he might have been, it could be used to harm just as easily as it could to charm.  “Have you?  It must be so inconvenient, me being down here, for you to have to strain yourself to visit me.  And how must Odin and Thor ask of my well being--I cannot imagine the pains you must go through day in and day out at their questions.”  

“You know as well as I that your brother and father--.”

“HE’S NOT MY FATHER!”  He couldn’t help but shout, his composure slipping as the rage bubbled up and over, spewing venom onto the one he cared most for.  He saw her shake, too, watched the sorrow well in her eyes though she didn’t shed a single tear, watched her horror at his words as it all played on her face, before slowly, reassuringly, she slipped the mask back on.  There was no going back from that, Loki supposed, breathing hard as a winded animal as he glowered at her, having stepped closer in his rage.  Had she been corporeal he might have felt her breath on his face as she raised a hand as though to cup his face.  

“Then am I not your mother?” She breathed, her voice soft enough to break his heart.  

How he wished he could swallow his tongue and never speak again.  “You’re not.”  He could not have it both ways, after all, could not have Odin as the bastard who’d adopted him and lied to him without vilifying Frigga, and that he could not stomach.  Yet to accept Odin as his father?  To accept the lies that had been spoon-fed him and forced into his brain, all the while his true parentage and heritage was hidden from him, was too much to stand, for as much as he loved Frigga he also hated Odin.  There could not be one without the other.  

_‘As Thor cannot exist without Loki, so Loki cannot exist without Thor.’_

Her quiet laugh was breathy, and might have been mocking.  The same variety that had ghosted over the Widow’s words when she’d called him out on his lies, having perceived his plan.  How was it these women could read the liesmith without fail?  

“Always so perceptive of everyone except yourself, Loki.  You will come to understand, in time.”  She promised.  

He didn’t want to hear it.  His heart was already heavy and his blood had already turned to ash in his veins, clogging and polluting anything he might further say to her.  Not wishing to cause her more grief he leaned into the hand that she’d offered, pretending for a moment he could feel the reassuring heat of her skin on his before her ghost disappeared and he was once more alone.  

 

He was not given much time to grieve the offensive words he’d said and for that he was grateful.  

Not three hours must have passed before there was a rumble and loud shouting came from one of the other cells.  Loki, who had been reclining on the sad excuse for a bed that had been provided him, stopped his fidgeting to listen, the cup he’d been tossing caught in his hands and set down at his side a moment later.  Shouts, screams, pleas for help.  All filled the air before a loud, bone-splitting shriek overcame it all.  When it ended there was silence, sudden and absolute, followed by the shattering of one of the magical barriers.  The lights in his cell flickered as Loki slowly sat up, turning to watch as the other inhabitants, the vandals and imbeciles he’d watched being led in, were one by one standing as well and shouting, demanding their freedom.  A huge beast, horned head and dark, soulless eyes, was striding through the hall between cells.  The monster brought its enormous fists to the walls keeping the prisoners in, and one by one they broke, disappearing into thin air as the villains were set loose to deal with the guards.  

Standing, Loki crossed over to the front of his cell to see the beast coming closer, their eyes meeting.  In them Loki saw nothing but pain.  Anger.  A need for vengeance against the Aesir.  

He found himself able to relate, yet he knew he was better than this beast, this ill excuse for a soldier, twisted and deformed by his hate while Loki had let it artfully chip himself away.  His chin tipped up ever so slightly, almost excited to see what this creature would do, and when it sneered and turned away Loki couldn’t help but smirk.  So it did recognize that which was stronger than itself.  Perhaps it wasn’t as idiotic as Loki had assumed.  

“You might want to try the stairs to your left,” he said, voice no louder than if the monster was standing in front of him, and though it paused to hear his words and nodded, it made no other note of it as it disappeared down the halls.  Loki summoned a book and seated himself on the floor beside the clear wall, wishing to see the damage and chaos that followed.  What was an annoyance to Odin and Thor was a boon to him.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates on this story and my others may be slow going, but I will for certain finish this as well as Chasing This Starlight, though for any fics after that I'm not sure exactly what'll be going on. Thank you all so much for sticking with me and your words of encouragement are incredible.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's where we earn the M rating, finally.  
> Thanks for reading and for all the comments! You are incredible.

The first rumble of the castle made Natasha’s hair stand on end, her hand instinctively going for her gun, only to find it wasn’t there.  After Odin had explained the origin of the Aether that was flooding her veins, this strange power, she’d been taken up to one of the guest rooms where she’d been waited on as though she were visiting royalty, now dressed in a satin gown of deep, burnished gold--they seemed to really have a thing for it--and though there was a breastplate that kept her torso and upper chest protected she couldn’t have felt more vulnerable in the swirling skirts and the flowing fabric, and she’d often done missions wearing little to nothing but a gun.  That was just it, though, she supposed as she stood up from where she and Thor had been sitting.  He went tense as well, and without question the pair of them made their way towards the source, finding the tall guards mustering closer to where the Allfather stood and directed them onwards.  

“What is going on?” Thor asked, frowning as he caught Odin’s gaze.  Natasha looked over at the yellow cloaks moving down the hall, caught the curious gaze of the one, singular woman with them with eyes like ice that held Nat’s own.  Nat did the quickest scan she could manage, assessing the woman to likely be Sif that Thor had ranted and raved about for so long, and she offered the woman a small, knowing smile.  She certainly looked as formidable as Thor had explained, and though the warrior goddess’ expression never changed at least Natasha had a face to go with the name, and she was all about pinpointing those near her.  

“Nothing.  It’s a simple skirmish,” Odin assured his son, “But they could use your assitance.  It would look good for the future king of Asgard.”

Ah yes, the constant reminder.  Natasha was well aware of Odin’s tactics, and though she may not have cared for them--especially since similar reminders were always prompted her as she’d grown up--she had to admit they did have a decent success rate.  Thor nodded, looking to Natasha.  

“I can fight,” she said quickly.  “Even if you won’t give my guns back, I have knowledge in how to use a sword and knives--.”

“I’ll take you my dear,” a soft feminine voice came from behind the pair, making Nat open her mouth to protest until she caught sight of who it was talking.  Tall, regal, her hair elegantly piled atop her head and a kind smile on her face but with plenty of knowledge behind her eyes.  Frigga, the queen.  There was no other explanation.  

“Thank you mother,” Thor said with an easy smile.  “Frigga, queen of Asgard, meet Lady Natasha of Midgard.”  

Nat chanced a hasty curtsey, and went to turn to Thor only to see him already bounding away.  The bastard.  

“You be safe, too,” Frigga said, her eyes meeting her husband’s one good one.  He smiled kindly at her and cupped the side of her face, but between them there was little to no passion.  Commitment, yes, and a kindred spirit yes.  But love, affection, adoration?  It was devoid from both of their faces, and Natasha couldn’t help but wonder if it’d always been that way, or if it was only after Loki’s fall from grace that the pair had suffered such hardships.  It wouldn’t have helped, either, that Thor was often gone, and though Odin assured his queen that she needn’t bother, kissing the back of her knuckles before releasing her, Nat could still see the worry pass through Frigga’s eyes, if not for her husband then for her son.  

Odin left soon after that, and Frigga smiled kindly at Natasha, her own gaze as discerning and intuitive as the same one Natasha had seen staring back at her from behind four inches of solid glass, from a man she once thought to be nothing more than smoke and mirrors and daddy issues.  

“Not all arranged marriages end poorly, child,” Frigga said quietly, leaning over to squeeze her shoulder.  “But that is a talk for a different day.  You said you know how to fight?”

“Yes madam,” Nat gave a quick, curt nod, her posture straightening further as she prepared herself to take orders.  Frigga noticed, and smiled, moving her hand to cup Natasha’s cheek, before they walked off.  From the passing warriors, Frigga grabbed two shorter swords, the guards noticing but saying nothing, and passed one to Natasha.  

“Excellent.  Then you follow me and do exactly as I ask.  Understood?”

“Yes madam.”  Natasha echoed, her heart thudding as the queen led her through a part of the palace she’d never been to.  The quarters they stopped in were enormous, spanning from a small resting area with a small , raised pond in the center, to a balcony overseeing the bifrost and the rainbow bridge, as well as the rest of the city.  There was something that was making the water rise, and as Natasha caught sight of it, Frigga stiffened further.  

“They’re coming,” she murmured, and turned once more to Natasha, studying her very intently.  “My dear you have been told about the dark elves?”  She asked, her voice very soft and very quick, laying the dagger that she’d stolen from the guard on the side of the pond, her hands moving in a hurried, complicated fashion.  Natasha nodded, her heart jumping into her throat as she felt something just underneath the surface tugging, pulling at whatever it was making the water ripple.  Her eyes widened.  

“I’m pulling them closer,” she said, her mind a whirl.  What the hell was Frigga still doing there with her?!  “You need to--.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the queen assured her, her face drawn before she closed her eyes and the air next to Natasha rippled.  In a small wave of yellow light a life-size copy of the redhead stood just beside her, making Natasha jump in surprise, while her copy simply looked over.  Frigga frowned, brows pulled tight, as she pressed at a couple of the features she hadn’t gotten quite right, tipping the fake Natasha’s chin upwards and straightening her shoulders.  “It’s not quite got your strength to it, but they’ll never know.  Now, you promised me you would listen to me and do what I say.”  The queen couldn’t have looked more stern, and yet understanding, as Natasha opened her mouth to protest but quickly shut it again.  That she had.  

“Yes, I did.”

“Good, then you will wait for my word if I require your help. I should not think so, no offense my dear, but it is best for them to think me in grave danger,” she said with the smallest flash of regret.  “You will take care of them, won't you?”

Natasha didn’t need her to clarify, the way the woman’s face was set, the determination in every line on her face and in the strength in her words, well, she would have been lying if she said it didn’t terrify her.  Absolutely.  She’d seen the look too many times, in comrades before they fell, in foes who realized she had the upper hand right before they bit into the cyanide capsule hidden in their mouth or uniform.  Hell, she was sure she’d given the look when Clint had caught her, his arrow pointed right at her face.  

“Won’t you, Natasha?” Frigga asked, reaching out to take the woman’s hand in hers and squeeze.  Throat seizing up Natasha nodded.  

“Good girl.  Now, I need you to hide for me.  I know you’re not used to that, but they will try and find you, and if they find you they will rip the Aether from you.  As I’m sure you know if they get a hold of that there is nothing any of us can do to stop them from destroying each realm one by one, so it is imperative that you do not let them near you.”  The queen leaned over to press her lips to Natasha’s forehead, breathing in deep, and Nat reached out to clasp her shoulder in hand and hold onto her.  She’d heard so many incredible, nearly impossible things about the strength of Asgardian women from Thor, about their resilience, and it was surreal to see such a woman really existed.  

“Both of my sons have told me so much about you; I was glad to have met you.”  Frigga kept her voice quiet, her gaze going elsewhere, towards the door.  

“Come down to Midgard sometime and we’ll have tea when this is all over,” Natasha said, her voice even despite the shaking of her heart, before she was pushed away, Frigga not saying a word about the suggestion.  Nat understood, keeping her hope up for as long as she could as she skittered through the vast interconnected rooms, silent as could be.  Behind her, in the space she’d just left, she could hear the door opening and soft voices.  She eventually managed to find a cupboard large enough to fit inside, and though she was loathe to do such a cowardly act she hid herself away, slamming her eyes shut and praying that this worked.  Frigga’s plan had to work, didn’t it?

With her eyes closed, however, she was privy to what her double was seeing, and watched as the queen slashed her blade out quick as a viper’s strike, catching the tall, white-faced man in front of her.  She bent and moved with the dagger as though it were a part of her very being, with an elegance Natasha had seen once before on a tall, dark-haired figure.  It explained the difference in fighting techniques between Thor and Loki, that was certain, and for a sliver of a moment Natasha’s hope rekindled.  Again, the queen lashed out, this time catching the man in front of her by the throat, the blade pressed up against him as she bent him backwards over the pond, the look on her face that of a mother lion protecting her cubs.  Her attention diverted, Frigga didn’t notice the darkened figure appearing through the door, its enormous strides closing the gap between the two figures, and though Natasha’s doppelganger tried to call out no sound was made.  One of the beast’s enormous hands clenched around Frigga’s throat, pulling her backwards so that its thick arm could take its hand’s place, Frigga’s dagger ripped from her hand and tossed out and off the balcony, far from being able to help.  

Where the hell was Thor?!

Now the tall man was coming towards Natasha, his black eyes seeping into her soul, hungry, demanding, called forth by a power he believed was there.  

“Do not be afraid, child,” he tried to soothe when Natasha pulled away from him, backing up until her back must’ve hit a wall, her eyes never leaving his, sure she was showing more fear than she had her whole life to this bastard.  He reached a hand out for her right wrist, and the moment his fingers touched her her sight disappeared, leaving her in the black closet.  There was a shout that even she could hear from the black-eyed man, and not willing to risk Frigga’s safety any longer Nat made a break for it.  

She arrived just in time to watch Frigga collapse onto the ground, her body shaking and convulsing as the tips of her fingers began to go ashy and darken, her eyes following suit as she gasped and stared up at the ceiling before she went completely and totally still.  Not wanting to waste time Natasha ran to her side and searched her for a wound, for anything that she could put pressure on to stop bleeding or something, but there didn’t seem to be one.  She put her hands to Frigga’s chest and started pumping, trying to keep her heart going, but found that it still beat, albeit faintly.  Thor had disappeared onto the balcony, chasing after those who had done this to his mother, and Odin came quickly into the room.  His spear nearly clattered to the ground before he ran to his wife, falling to his knees at her side and passing a hand over her face.  

“Cursed, but still breathing,” Odin said, voice gravely and his one good eye tearing up.  He might not have loved her as he once did, perhaps he never had at all, but he did care about her, and Nat was glad to see it as he hoisted his wife into his arms and carried her off towards, where Nat presumed, was the same infirmary that she’d been taken to.  Thor stood in the entrance of the balcony, watching his father disappear, his face drawn and eyes wide, disbelieving.  Even from where Natasha stood she could see him shaking with a potent mix of fury and sorrow, so much so that when she rose to stand beside him, taking her hand in hers and pulling him into his arms he couldn’t stop it.  

“My mother--.”

“She’s alive.  Your father took her to the infirmary,” Natasha promised, stroking his hair and holding him tight to her, burying her face in his neck, murmuring to him that his mother would be fine.  She hoped.  She barely noticed that her own cheeks were wet until Thor pulled away to tip her chin up, wiping her tears away with his calloused thumb.  

“Does she suffer?”

“It doesn’t look like it.  Her fingers have gone dark and her eyes grey,” she swallowed hard, blinking furiously as she tried to make herself stop crying.  She’d hardly known the woman, and yet she’d been willing to give her life to save Natasha.  Another debt she doubted she could ever pay back.  

‘Yes, you can.’  

She’d been charged to take care of Thor, and Loki now that Nat thought about it.  Frigga had been careful to instruct her to look after both of her sons, and Thor looked as if he might shatter at any moment, break apart into a thousand pieces and never be put back together again.  Slowly, one of Natasha’s hands stretched upwards, caught in Thor’s hair, and after pulling herself up to her toes she pressed her lips gently to Thor’s, feeling him tense, and then release as though he’d just had his strings cut.  His body molded against hers, one of his large hands coming out to catch the back of her head as he all but devoured her where she stood.  Everyone dealt with stress and grief differently, Natasha supposed as Thor’s trembling stopped and he pulled away from her a moment or two later.  

“We should--.”

“Yes.  Let’s go check on her,” Natasha promised, kissing his cheek and heading out the door with him.  She could be the steady one for him.  

 

Frigga was stable, but just barely, the healers told Thor and Natasha when they stepped into the now filled infirmary.  The queen had been taken to a private room to heal, while the beds that had once been pure white and free now were blood-covered and filled with the bodies of the Aesir who had been injured in the attack from the dark elves, which Thor had explained to Natasha on their way, her hand clasped tight in his all the while, fingers threaded with his larger ones.  As they walked steadily down the rows upon rows of soldiers, Thor murmuring his condolensces or else grabbing a fellow warrior’s hands as they passed to give him strength, Natasha saw the healers breaking stones into dust over the open wounds, watched as they healed, then turned to see a limp, pale body being lifted and removed from the room.  How many more were being tended to elsewhere?  How many more had died because of her, because she’d found the Aether and brought it to Asgard?  

Her heart sank further in the pits of her chest than she thought it ever had before.  Any thought or promise of wiping her ledger clean disappeared.  She’d been a fool for thinking it might’ve ever been possible.  

Odin sat beside Frigga’s bed, one of her pale hands held loosely in his, his face stoic and lips set in a tight look when he saw Thor and Natasha enter.  He might not have said anything about Nat’s presence, but she knew he was thinking the same thing she had been not minutes ago.  Neither of them said a word to one another, Natasha there simply to ensure that Frigga was still alive and to help Thor, who’d moved to the other side of his mother.  Without prompt the healers explained that she’d been taken by a curse from Malekith, that instead of killing her outright he’d begun to suck the light from her, just as the books said the dark elves would do to the universe if they got a hold of the Aether.  It made sense, Natasha thought, as she watched the black branches of the dark magic move slowly from the queen’s fingertips to her wrist.  If she was in Malekith’s position she would have done the same: made those she disliked watched those they loved suffer, without hope of doing anything else.  Let their pain fester until it consumed them, then when they were weak, crush them under his boot with the rest of the nine realms--.

She took a step back, gasping for a moment, the alien power within her raging.  It wanted more, it wanted to consume, and she didn’t trust herself near Frigga.  Excusing herself softly, she disappeared out the door and leaned against the outside wall, tipping her head backwards and screwing up her eyes against another flood of tears.  It was getting worse, stronger now as it bled into her subconsciousness, and she couldn’t help but despair and wonder how much more she had to take.  How much more _could_ she take?

“Natasha?”  The voice was soft from the other side of her, and she turned to see that Thor had followed her out.  Hastily she gulped down air and forced herself to smile.  

“I’m sorry--I didn’t mean to make you leave. I can see myself back to my room.”  It was a lie, a poor one on top of that, and Thor’s tight smile told her that he saw through it without problem.  Damn.  She’d tried.  He stepped closer and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her gently.  It wasn’t passionate by any means, driven and fueled by his grief at the situation that had befallen his mother, and as Natasha brought her hands to either side of his face she tried to tell him she knew.  She understood, and she would take care of him as best she could.  They disconnected moments later, Thor taking her by the hand and leading her back towards his room.  Every so often he’d catch sight of a broken pillar or two and wince, the shock of it running through his body, and each time Nat would squeeze his hand to reassure him it wasn’t his fault.  He hadn’t brought the dark elves to them, hadn’t intentionally sought them out and brought this upon his family and people.  No.  He was just another victim, and how many of those had she seen in her life?  

The door had barely closed behind them before Thor’s lips were on hers again, begging for her help, kissing her as though he might not draw breath if he didn’t. One of his hands was cemented on her hips, the other cradling the back of her head to help tip it upwards so as to get a better angle, tongue licking into her mouth as she moaned and opened up for him, nails scratching up his armor.  He murmured an apology before he pulled away and started to remove the armor he’d donned for the fight, and Nat couldn’t help but watch in awe.  It was a work of art, almost, how the metal worked together, the way it all attaches and yet comes apart with the lightest and quickest of movements from his experienced fingers.  Curious how something so simple could be so protective.  It isn’t long before he’s in a simple shift in front of her, and now it’s Natasha’s turn to hurry, trying to figure out how to work the damn dress they’d put her in, her fingers sliding on the metal bustier as she tried to find the connecting points.  

“Allow me.”  

Thor was far closer than she expected but she stilled underneath him all the same, looking up at him as he turned his gaze downward to focus on undoing the clasps that kept her covered up before him.  In no time he had it off her and set it to the side, the laces of her dress undone soon after so that it slipped down past her shoulders.  His eyes were glazed over as he looked her over, and with one hand she tipped his chin back up so that their lips could collide again, her hand moving between them, feeling his chest vibrate as his moan filled her up.  His arms wrapped around her to pull her up, off the ground, and laid her down onto the bed, Nat pulling him along with her, kissing him as if she could spirit their grief away.  

His movements were slow as he reached to the side for a small vial of what looked like oil, pulling away from her to coat his fingers and cock before slipping two fingers slowly inside of her.  She gave a quiet gasp, her back arching, hand finding his clean one to hold onto tightly as his thumb found her clit and she shuddered beneath him.  There was a strange slowness to his actions, a pensive look pulling his brow down despite his cock already being hard and leaking, and Nat found she didn’t have the heart to ask him to speed up.  He needed this release, having kept it all bottled inside the whole while, the strong, silent future king.  She reached a hand out to fist his cock, moving slowly, matching the same rhythm he used inside her, and in no time she found him pulling his hand out so she could guide him to press into her.  She swore the same stars that she’d seen on her way into Asgard popped before her vision now, her body going through the motions as she wound her legs around his waist to pull him in further until he filled her completely, though a little too large to fit entirely inside her.  She huffed, never having had that problem before, but Thor smiled and leaned down to kiss her furrowed brow before he slid back out, each inch of him rubbing her just the right way.  Natasha keened, the sound soft and almost mournful, as he set a slow rhythm between them, eyes making contact and fingers intertwined.  She watched his face change, his eyes cloud over as he tried to fuck his demons away, and as the night went on his speed increased, his head burying in her shoulder as he panted against her skin.  She moaned and kissed at his throat and the side of his face, murmuring his name over and over, promising him it was all okay, everything was going to turn out alright, wishing the whole while she could muster some truth behind the words, could find some way of proving that they could get through this.  

She came shortly before he did, seizing around his body, the build up having been slow but therapeutic as tears stung her eyes and her words were choked down by emotion.  She hadn’t felt this way in years, and yet to let go of it, wrapped tight in Thor’s warm, strong embrace, well, it certainly beat going to a shrink.  He followed right after, the tightness and welcoming warmth of her too much for him to handle in such a state, and she felt water trickle down her shoulder, felt his body quake beneath her hands.  Slowly, she turned him over onto his back and slipped off of him, pressing her lips to his salted cheeks, his nose, forehead.  

“You’re alright, Thor.  You’re safe.  You can let it out,” she promised against the skin of his neck, nuzzling the soft skin there.  He shuddered and held her tight once more, and though he never openly sobbed she watched the tension leave his body as the minutes passed, a strange resolution setting his face after they’d laid together for some time.  

“I’m going to kill Malekith, and once he is dead his hold on mother will be broken, and his claim and desire for the Aether will be gone,” Thor finally resolved some hours later, his fingers absently running through Natasha’s soft hair.  The sun was just setting over the Asgardian horizon, the reddened sky paying homage to the blood already spilled.  “But to do that I will need my brother.”

Natasha’s body tensed in his hold, the fingers that had absently been drawing lines over his tanned skin stopping on a dime.  “You’re certain?”

“By now the ways in and out of Asgard will be blocked.  He, alone, will know how to track Malekith down.  I will go to father first with my plan to seek out the Accursed bastard.  If he refuses me, then I will seek help elsewhere.”  He paused, and leaned over to kiss her hair.  “I am asking much of you to cooperate with him, but please, Natasha.  He can help.  He just needs the proper push.”  

Why did Nat feel as though she’d heard those words before?  Still, she nodded her assent, and with few words between them they rose separately and dressed once more.  There would be a funeral for the fallen warriors and citizens caught in the crossfire of the attack.  

“He’s going to betray us.  He doesn’t care for me, not since I foiled his plan,” Natasha murmured, hardly daring to look up at Thor, not wanting to rain on his parade per se, but dammit it was her life on the line, too.  They couldn’t do much for Frigga or the world if they were both dead.  

“He’ll like Malekith all the less when I tell him what has happened to mother.  He needn’t know the extent of what happened, only that Malekith is the one who put her in such a state.  His rage will consume him with a need for revenge; that is where he will be of best use to us.”  Thor gave a quiet sigh and shook his head before shouldering on the blue, soft cloak that she’d seen him in before.  Her smile was tight as she stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.  He really didn’t get enough credit, thinking to use his brother in such a way.  It perhaps wasn’t the kindest, but tactically it made the most sense.  She could only pray, or rather hope it didn’t get them all killed.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, yes I'm aware that the pairing is Loki and Natasha--and don't worry, it will be. Just trust me. If you've been reading me long enough you'll know this trio is my OT3 XD


	6. Chapter 6

It would’ve been impossible for Loki to have gone without hearing the raucous that went on above, the whole ceiling having shook with the fight and destruction Loki could only assume had wrecked the fine halls of Asgard, though he truthfully had little care for it.  Good, let Odin and Thor suffer, he only wished he could bring their golden palace to down around them himself.  Let them experience fear and worry as Loki had when he’d fallen from Asgard, with nothing to protect them from the harsh realities around.  

Let them all suffer, all except--.

He paused where he was reading, eyes having skimmed over the same sentence three times in a row before he blinked very quickly.  He was used to being watched, the guards near him more often than not staring to ensure that he wasn’t making problems.  But this?  This was intentional.  Familiar, but impossible.  He looked up from his book and smirked, green eyes bright and feeling more alive and more interested than he had in quite some time, excitement thrumming in his veins.  ‘ _Oh_.’

“Agent Romanov,” he stood quickly, moving his book to the side.  How curious that he was there, dressed in a deep purple and black gown that fitted her well.  Better than that, he hated to say, but at least it was true.  Had Thor intended to mock him through bringing the one person, a Midgardian nonetheless, who beat him to Asgard to see him like this?  Well fine then, he could play.  “How’s Barton?  Does he miss me and beg you to bring me back?”  

Oh he loved the way she tensed up whenever he brought the name of her partner up, loved how her face blanked and her eyes went sharp as the dagger he’d very much love to use to slit her clothing, or her throat.  Perhaps in that order.  

“I didn’t come here to mince words you with you, Loki,” she said, and he loved the way her plump lips formed his name.  Would love them even more as they wrapped around his cock when he forced her to her knees.  He felt his heart stutter for the briefest of seconds.  Where the hell had that come from?  Certainly he found her attractive, alluring, but he’d assumed it was because of how he’d seen inside of Barton’s mind, how they’d shared consciousness for the briefest of times.  He’d been forced to see her, vulnerable, terrifying, wild, just as Barton had when he’d first given her the chance to redeem herself, and from there had only ever seen her grow.  He’d watched her strip for Barton after a long mission, the two tending to one another’s wounds before falling into bed together, the act nothing more than getting a base need out of their system, just as he and Amora had done as youths.  Seen her take a bullet for the archer before embedding three more in the attacker’s head, then pressing on.  Watched as she seduced men, women, whoever was in her way, and all the while the archer watched on with respect and an affection stronger than that of a sibling, one bathed in blood rather than forged in it, as he kept her and her target in his sight at all time.  

It was impossible not to find her somewhat desirable and interesting after that, after hearing about her past and her hopes for the future as Barton rattled them all off, from their previous missions to what the ones in the Red Room had done to her as a child, secrets she’d spilled for Barton alone, and now Loki.  

He found he rather liked knowing all of her secrets, and would’ve liked to make a few more with her.  “Have you come to gloat, then, to see the great shame I have brought those who call themselves my family--?”

“I come with news,” she murmured, stepping closer.  Unafraid.  Even as his face twisted, contorted with rage at the thought that Thor had sent _her_ of all people to parley with him, she didn’t back down.  When he brought his fist to the wall, just as he had when there was glass in between them what felt like centuries ago, she stared at him right in the eyes.  

Pity.  It all but bled from them.  

“What do you want?” He demanded.  

“Your mother was killed in the attack from the Dark Elves,” she said.  

Loki’s world halted, his face remaining stoic as his hand dropped to his side.  What?  Impossible.  Surely this stupid, idiotic mortal couldn’t be right.  Not about Frigga.  

No.  

“I’m so, so sorry Loki.  I know how much you meant to her and she . . . she asked me to look after you.  To make sure you’re alright.”  Natasha said, and this time it was she who raised her hand to the wall, spread her fingers across it even as the magic caressed her fingertips.  There was something different about, stronger, more vibrant, but he couldn’t focus on it.  Frigga was dead.  Dead.  And his last words to her--.  His last sentiment--.  

He pulled away from the woman with a deep smirk that reached his eyes that poured malice as though it were wine.  At his sides his hands balled into fists.  “So she sends the whore to bring me comfort?  Tell me, Natasha,” he said, feeling out her name as though it belonged to him.  It might as well have.  “Will you lay yourself down at my feet and offer yourself to me, all the while telling yourself that you are simply working for the greater good?  Simply following orders again?  Or are you so used to debasing yourself that fucking a god is but a step up from your usual prey?” He demanded, cutting into her and watching her minute wince at his foul language.  But it only made him more angry.  The last time she’d looked horrified, terrified at what he’s said it had been an act.  Was this, too, nothing more than a deception?  He bit back a snarl as he glowered at her.  

“Leave me alone.”

Her blue eyes caught his, and for half a second he saw her sorrow, raw as though it had been cut straight out of her heart and presented to him.  It floored him, that she was showing genuine emotion, yet she dipped her head and gathered her skirts around her to step slowly out of the room.  No gloating, no games.  Just Loki, alone in his cell, without a mother or a companion to look forward to.  

_“Then am I not your mother?”_

_“You’re not.”_

He turned his back to the hallway separating the prisoners cages and the furniture of his room flew backwards and hit the walls, activating the magic so that it sparked and flickered around him.  It mattered little, and his jaw set into a hard grimace as he screamed, and screamed, and screamed, the noise echoing through the dungeon so that he hoped Natasha, wherever she might be staying, would hear it.  Anguish, grief, regret.  It came flooding out of him, a burst dam after a torrential rain, and consumed him, the pieces of furniture shattering around him as they collided with the walls, one another, even with Loki from time to time, but he was too distracted by the ache in his heart to feel anything else.  How could he hope to feel ever again when the only one who ever loved him was gone?  

The realization hit him in the gut and sent him to his knees, or perhaps that was the chair that had collided with him, though it was grief that made him tremble as he pushed his back against the wall, pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his head in it.  He was a wreck, bleeding from having stepped on part of the destroyed furniture as his magic continued to destroy, consuming his anger and despair and leaving him empty, so empty that not even his shouts and pleas and demands to change what he’d said could ever fill him up.  

He doubted he’d ever be whole again.  

He didn’t once move from that spot.  As time went on, an illusion went up that he was still sitting on his bed, reading, as though nothing had happened, as if the one sun in his life hadn’t been blotted out.  

As if Malekith, the dark elf who’d done this according to the chatter of the guards, hadn’t taken the one good thing in his life away from him.  


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! You're incredible, and I love you for it!

Nat was honestly amazed it took them as long as it did for the guards to come get her.  Had she been in Odin’s position she would’ve taken her to some sort of protective room from the get go, to be under lock and key until they figured out what to do, or until Malekith got there again.  Obviously it was what they were waiting for.  Why not just throw her in the same cell as Loki and be done with it?  He’d kill her, the Aether would disappear, or if not then at least they’d keep him vastly entertained watching as he tried to hurt her while the toxin, or whatever, in her blood kept her safe.  Hell they might even finish each other off, and wouldn’t that be for the better?  

She had been alone for far too long if she was having thoughts like this.  Not even Thor had gotten to come see her, and though she missed his company it did give her a good handle on the situation and a chance to look back at it.  After the funerals for the rest of the Asgardians who had passed she’d snuck down to Loki’s cell to give him the news, and though his reaction was not quite what she’d been expecting, he hadn’t caught the lie.  For that she was grateful.  That night was spent in Thor’s arms, feeling him shudder around her both with nightmares and with half-broken sobs.  She regretted that she wasn’t able to help him any more than she already had.  All this power within her, and what good could it do?  Nothing.  Why was it that men like Loki craved it if it brought nothing but anxiety and trouble, death and suffering of those around them?  

_‘Heavy is the head that wears the crown.’_

The door opened to reveal the guard with her dinner, and she shook her head.  Why on earth would she be hungry then?  She’d hardly had a stomach since getting off the bifrost, hardly had time to think about it.  

There came a clatter from the other side of him as the guards all fell, standing behind them was Sif.  The dark haired woman gave her a quick up-down, smiling as she watched Nat immediately spring into action, picking off a couple of the smaller, more concealed weapons to add her already acquired arsenal of three knives she’d already pickpocketed when she was first brought there.  

“You are the Midgardian that Thor worked alongside to bring down Loki?” Sif asked as they walked briskly down one of the many elaborate halls.  

“Yeah.  Loki tried to taunt me when he was in one of our holding cells.  I found out his plan from that,” she gave a small shrug as though it was nothing.  Honestly she was used to dealing with megalomaniacs and getting them to spill their guts to her, though Loki had been something of a surprise at just how quickly he’d broken down and revealed it all.  She’d really thought he’d be more guarded, but vanity got the best of some people she supposed.  

“You’re brave to have stood up to him.  I know many an Aesir who are terrified of making him angry.”

“I can handle him,” she promised.  Sif’s look turned appraising, if not intrigued.  

“Let’s hope so,” she murmured, dipping her head so that Nat turned her attention to what was in front of them.  Bold as brass stood Loki, chained but grinning as he bantered with a not so easy looking Thor, the blond drawn as he turned to look over at Natasha.  The depth of his smile didn’t go unnoticed by either Sif or Loki, the former nudged Nat and rolled her eyes, teasing a quick smile of Nat’s own, unable to help it.  Loki’s expression, however, was tight for the briefest of moments before his lips quirked up in a smirk of his own, though his eyes stayed hard and fixed on Natasha as he grew closer.  

“You know when Frigga said to take care of us I don’t think she meant it--.”

Nat’s fist connected with his jaw, before her knee connected with his groin, making him double over in shock and pain, hunching over far enough that she could lean in and whisper, her lips pressed against the shell of his ear and breath warm against his cool skin: “That’s for bringing up Agent Barton.”  

Thor’s eyes were wide, looking from Nat to Loki, body tense as though he wasn’t sure what to do, while Sif just looked impressed.  

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, Agent Romanov,” Loki said, wincing a little as he forced himself to stand upright, forcing a grin onto his face.  She just rolled her eyes.  She hadn’t hit him that hard, there was no need to act as if she’d crippled him for life.  From the other side of the hall Nat could hear the sounds of guards coming, and as Sif and Thor seemed to be discussing the same thing Loki tipped her head over to face him once more.  

“So, you have taken my brother’s bed.  How interesting,” he smirked as he moved a thumb over one of the marks that Thor had left on her throat, the bruise still purple and bright she was certain despite it having been some time since they’d last had sex.  

“None of your business, Loki.  You turned down my offer for comfort,” she said, lips tight and eyes narrowing as his own expression turned gleeful.  

“And if I said I’d take you up on it?”

“I’d tell you there’s not exactly time to be fucking around.”  She turned back to Thor.  “Are we going or fighting?” She asked, pulling one of her daggers out and staying Loki’s hand when he went to grab one of her others, not bothering to turn and look at him.  Idiot.  His low laugh was all she got for a response.  Thor nodded his agreement, leading the way.  Nat dipped her head towards Sif to thank her for her help, while the warrior goddess pressed her blade up to Loki’s throat, hissing a threat about betraying Thor and how it would end badly for the trickster.  Nat smirked to see him present his throat to her, almost as though he was used to it.  Familiar with taking such a submissive role.  How interesting.  

There wasn’t much more time to think it over as Thor beckoned them on, Nat’s grip tightening on the dagger as she heard the telltale “shing” of swords being unsheathed and shouts of the guards as they caught sight of the retreating trio.  They didn’t have much time, and though Volstagg, the next friend of Thor’s that they encountered, promised to do his very best at defending them, Nat couldn’t help but be skeptic.  He was a rather large man, certainly, and Thor trusted him, but they needed time.  

It wasn’t as though Thor knew how to fly the craft that they were stepping into.  When Nat opened her mouth to offer assistance, however, Loki was quick to cut in.  

"I thought you knew how to fly this thing?" He snarked, watching as his brother accosted every visible inch of what must've been the control panel.  She looked out the side, heard the clattering of swords on armor, grunts and shouts as they realized where the others were.  Heard Volstagg doing his best to hold them back, laughing as they fought as if he was having a grand old time.  The loon.  She surveyed the rest of the ship, the two brothers bickering in the background about whether or not Thor was pressing or hitting the buttons on the dashboard.  With a whirl the machine came to life beneath them and she felt the air leave her lungs.  Thor gave a cry of success as the machine lifted from the ground, Loki just snarking that he couldn't have hit more columns if he'd tried.  As if it was helping.  It was good to hear the banter, though, reminding Nat of Clint whenever they'd go on a mission together.  He always picked at the smallest of things, the tension between them more comforting than it should've been, she supposed.  The vehicle lurched forward as Thor maneuvered it through the wide halls, and Nat had to backtrack slightly to catch hold of the side before she toppled over, the wind still knocked from her lungs.  She felt the eyes of one of them on her and caught Loki’s gaze when she turned back.  

“Shut up,” she growled, turning back around.  “I’m fine.”  But she knew she wasn’t.  The Aether was taking a lot out of her, clawing its way from her skin as it felt the dark elves’ ship around her, trying to get back to its source, as if it could sense that there was a more powerful creature or being out there and was desperate to get to.  She gritted her teeth together.  She’d show them what was powerful enough, though she hunched down to give Thor a better view rather than standing in front.  

Thor made a great mess of things, Nat had to admit, and though Loki was quick to comment on everything Nat had hope that there was a greater plan than this.  She had to.  He wasn’t stupid, after all.  

Loki, it seemed, wasn’t as confident.  “You oaf!” He shouted.  “This is a fantastic plan.  Steal the largest, most obvious ship there is, wreak havoc as you go through the city to cause mass panic, get us followed by the palace guards who’ll have your and my head for being out of my damn cell--it’s brilliant, Thor!  It’s fucking--.”  His shout made her turn around, amazed to see his body fly out through the opened door.  Wait.  What?  Thor was standing at her side a moment later, hoisting her into his arms before looking down and jumping.  She choked on a shout herself, burying her face in his shoulders as he held onto her and landed, with surprising finesse, on the deck of another ship, this one manned by the blond friend of his, named Fandral if she wasn’t mistaken. Loki was scrambling up to his feet, groaning at the ache from being thrown out.  Above, the now empty ship was being pursued as it veered off to the right.  

“I see your time in the dungeons have made you no less graceful, Loki,” Fandral quipped with a grin as Thor moved to sit Nat down at the very front of the ship, her eyes wide.  She took his hand in hers.

“Please don’t do that again,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear, sure she was paler than normal.  Steve and Thor might have a thing for falling out of aircrafts without a parachute, but Nat?  No way in hell.  

Thor just smiled and pressed his lips to hers quickly, before looking over at Loki.  “Take us through the secret path.”  

Loki’s gaze hardened, jaw set tight, before he nodded and took over what Fandral had, until moments ago, been using to steer the ship.  The displeasure that had set his lips in a tight line disappeared quickly, though, replaced by a grin as the ship responded to the slightest of his caresses on the steering rod.  His fingers seemed to caress the rounded metal, shackled together though his wrists were, and it almost purred beneath his careful touches.  There came the sound of guns being fired at them, the water splashing around the lowered ship as the beams of energy hit its blue surface, before Loki lifted the ship upwards.  Thor called out to Fandral, who nodded his head and with an almost amused cry of “For Asgard!” the man took hold of a length of rope and jumped off the side, passing onto the ship underneath them without issue to knock out its crew and give them safe passage for the rest of the way.  

It was no wonder Thor felt so at home on the Avengers when he had a crew of his own that were so willing to help him when he needed it, no matter what the cost, and she was sure it would be great for going strictly against the king’s orders.  

With that last ship off their trail, Nat turned her attention to the mountain they were quickly coming up on, her hands tightening into fists.  

“Loki!” Thor shouted as he looked back at his brother.  Nat did the same, though she was oddly distracted by the way his long fingers kept caressing the handle.  

“If it were easy everyone would do it,” Loki snarked, his eyes masked with determination, mouth hanging an inch or so open as he moved the ship in ways Nat wasn’t sure she could fathom.  

“Are you mad?”  Thor demanded.

“Thor, just let him work,” Nat said, taking his hand and squeezing, before the man huddled down over her, trying to protect her with his body as Loki steered the ship through a minute crack in the mountain.  The edges of the ship scraped against the hard rock, sending sparks flying as Loki tried to keep them from hitting all of the jutting edges and difficult jags of the crevice.  A rainbow light shot out in front of them and with a sarcastic “Ta-dah!” from their pilot they landed on what looked like a barren wasteland, the sun blotted out by a larger orb in the sky, high winds picking up as they skimmed the surface of the new planet.  

Nat couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would stay on a planet such as this.  

“Sleep,” Thor murmured above her, feeling the way she’d started to tremble, and pressing his lips to her forehead.  “Rest for now.  I know not when the chance will come again.”  

She nodded, thanking him for the affection as she cupped the side of his face and kissed his cheek, before tucking her arm under her head and closing her eyes.  

Neither of them noticed how Loki stiffened or the harsh line set in his face at the affection shared between the two of them.  

 


	8. Chapter 8

She didn't get much sleep with the Aether churning inside of her, ripping at her insides and tugging at her consciousness, trying to get her to rise.  To move.  To fight.  She refused, keeping her eyes shut to try and block it all out and force herself to sleep, but that didn't seem likely.  

Instead she listened to the two men near her bicker.  Did they ever stop?

"What I could do with the power that flows through those veins," Loki mused, bordering almost on regretful that he wouldn't get the chance.  

"It would consume you," Thor told him in a matter of fact tone, though Nat could practically see the way his eyes would roll at his brother's ever-present quest for power.  

"She's holding up alright," Loki said, sounding almost affectionate.  "She will for some time."

"Yes, she's very strong," Thor's voice was quiet and she felt him lean closer to her, brushing a strand of hair from her face and playing with the curl.  

"When did you forget about your lovely Lady Jane?" Loki asked, bitterness filling his voice.  Why?

"She's better off without me.  I cannot offer her the stability she would want and deserves, the assuredness she needs, whether I stayed with the Avengers or could bring her here to rule at my side.  It would bore her to tears and aggravate her to no end to be apart from her work."

"So what will you do, then, stay with Agent Romanov? Do you really think you could make her happy?"  Nat could hear the sneer in his voice.  "You?  She'll grow tired of you and your lovely conversation.  Once the passion goes between you she'll resent you, and you'll hate yourself for it.  You see the best in people but she's only with you because F--.  Because she was asked to take care of you.  Of us."

"So what shall I do?  Leave her when this is over?" Thor demanded, voice turning into a snarl.  She could feel him tense beside her.  "Then will you be satisfied?"

"Satisfaction's not in my nature."

"Surrender's not in mine."  Thor squeezed Nat's hand.  

Loki laughed though his next words couldn't have been dripping with more condescention.  "The son of Odin--."

"No, not just of Odin."  Nat felt Thor leave her and she snuck a peek at the pair of them, the Aether feeding on the strong emotions the same way tht the tesseract and Loki's scepter had fed on anger and tension.  

"You think you alone were loved of Mother?" Thor demanded, advancing on Loki, whose full attention was on the bulky blond, standing his ground.  Now who wasn't surrendering?  "You had her tricks but I had her trust."

"Trust?" Loki sounded disbelieving, spitting the word out as though it were poison.  "Was that her last expression, trust?  Yet you let her die, Thor!  She trusted you to defend her!  I--."

"What good were you in your cell?" The two were shouting now, and Nat was grateful for the empitness of the land.  the last thing they needed was to give their position away because the brothers decided to have a fight now.  

"Who put me there, Thor?  WHO PUT ME THERE?!"  

There was a hard thud as Thor shoved him back against the ship.  Nat sat up quick, afraid of Thor hurting his brother when they still needed him.  What she heard instead was a choked sob, Loki held tight in Thor's arms, his slight frame shaking.  Thor clutched him close and the sight struck Nat hard in the gut.  Estranged they might have been, anger and betrayal might have been their bread and butter, yet brothers they still were.  Blood or not, grief and affection for the woman who gave her life to defend her realm and Natasha without thought made family of them both.  

"She wouldn't want us to fight," Thor murmured against his brother's crown.  Loki let out a strained chuckle as he gave a muffled response that Nat couldn't hear but made Thor laugh as well.  They pulled away slowly, Loki's eyes glossy and face paler than normal against the dreary backdrop.  His lack of composure nearly hurt to look at.  There was a man so run down by what had happened, by the life he'd been told he deserved.  He alone had drove himself to this point, had cascaded magnificently over the cliff only to find that like Icarus his wings had been destroyed, and so crashed simply for trying to reach too high.  It hurt, plain and simple, to look at, though the affection etched on Thor's face as he reached out to cup the side of his brother's face was just as painful.  

"I wish I could trust you," the larger man said, voice quiet.  The love and hurt on Loki's face, broken down for once, forced the wind from Natasha's lungs.

"Trust my rage," he murmured.  Thor gave a small nod and turned back, looking surprised to see Nat awake.  

"You two were really loud," she murmured.  

"Apologies my lady," Thor pulled away from his brother to hunch down beside her, but Nat's eyes watched how Loki's expression faded from his face, the pain receding to fester and consume him.  

"Do you wish to sleep more?" Thor asked.  Nat turned back to him with the quickest shake of her head.  

"No, I'm alright.  It's your turn.  Loki if you want to show me how to steer or where to go--."

"I've rested long enough, Agent Romanov, though your compassion is a boon."  

Well he didn't have to be such a sarcastic asshole when she was trying to help, but fine.  She nodded once and shifted so that Thor could take her place, the exhaustion finally hitting him.  

"I assure you I am fine," Thor murmured even when Nat rubbed his back and felt him relax beneath her for what must've been the first time since they'd coupled.

"You're no use to us half dead, Thor.  I mean it.  Even a god has his limits," she teased, kissing him slowly before pulling away so he could rest.  All the while she felt Loki's toxic jealousy on her back as he watched her.  What more did he want from her?  She offered him her help, but he'd rebuked her.  She couldn't read his mind and so couldn't offer more assistance than what she'd already done.  That was all there was to it.  She turned to look at him, watching as he attempted to seem as though he’d been focusing on what he was doing the whole while.  She tried not to smirk. Really?  Hadn’t he learned yet that he couldn’t hide from her?

“I didn’t mean any offense before,”  she told him with a quiet sigh, squeezing Thr’s hand beside her.  She’d done what she had to with him, yes, to help him through it all.  But did she regret it?  Did she worry about giving him the wrong impression?  No.  They weren’t stupid.  They’d bonded through grief and she had been more than happy to help Thor, her teammate, her friend. S he was glad to have been there for him and she’d tried to at least help Loki.  His path was his own.  

Loki simply rolled his eyes before turning his attention to her, done feigning as though nothing had happened.  As if she hadn’t caught him at his own game. “You didn’t offend me, don’t be daft.”

“No, but you’re upset that you didn’t take the opportunity when it came up,” she said, shifting towards him, meeting his green eyes with her own strong gaze.  What did he think he had to prove?  Aside from obviously wanting another chance to try and defeat her and gain justice for the humility she’d forced him to feel in the Helicarrier, what was he holding back from?  “C’mon Loki, you know you can’t hide from me.”

His jaw set hard as he glowered down at her, one of his hands tightening on the steering rod.  Oh good, she had irritated him.  The more aggravated he got the more transparent he became, bless him for that.  As unpredictable as he was famed to be, Nat would always be able to at least get a taste of what he was feeling so long as she pissed him off enough.  Even if that was a dangerous line to be walking, well, it wasn’t as though spying was the sanest or safest thing.  She must’ve just had a knack for things that would get her killed in the long run, with pestering a demi-god coming pretty high on the list.  

“Why should I bother speaking with you when you’re so positive of how I am laready?” He asked, taking obvious pleasure in the way that Nat stiffened with his nearly on pointe observations.  Maybe she wasn’t the only one who could play after all.  

“Because you love the sound of your own voice.  You get a thrill out of holding the expectations suspended, and letting them down when you can,” Nat said.

“And you thoroughly enjoy bringing others who are larger and stronger than you are to their knees,” Loki countered.

Nat smirked, giving him a slow, deliberate up-down.  Clever choice of words.  “You tried to do the same, and don’t deny you thought about forcing me into subservience.”  She watched him stiffen, shifting his hips so that they were at least mostly guarded from her gaze.  He really should’ve known better than to get into something like this with her; she made a living off of reading men like him.  “Tell me how it feels, though, being down there in the end.”  

“As if you do not already know.”  His face twisted with his words, obviously thinking it was a bluff he could call her on, as though it was something she was ashamed of.  

“I’ve been there before and it’s not necessarily a worrying position.”  She arched a brow.  “But you know I have.”  

Barton had come clean to her about what had been shared between himself and Loki without Nat even having to prompt him, the guilt of his actions having eaten him alive.  She hadn’t blamed him, had soothed him and told him it was alright.  There was no harm done in an idiot like Loki knowing about her past, knowing the dirtiest, most unpleasant secrets about her life, after all, because she hadn’t intended on seeing him ever again.  Well, that’s what she got, she supposed, for attempting to make plans.  

“And now what do you think?” Loki asked, leaning back on the ship.  Nat rose and took the three or so steps closer to him, taking her time before maneuvering a steady hand over the steering rod, taking his place.  He didn’t fight it.  With her other hand she pulled him closer by the front of his tunic, and pushed him down just as steadily.  He didn’t fight it.  

“You tell me,” Natasha said, and her voice was pure silk, just loud enough to be heard over the faint purr of the engine and the few gusts of wind that filled their ears.  Loki’s adam’s apple bobbed as his head tipped slightly to the side, eyes slitted even as their gazes maintained connected.  Her hand shifted to gently caress the exposed skin of his throat.  He shuddered beneath her.  

“Do you feel powerful now?” She asked, voice thick.  He didn’t answer, breathing shallow before she allowed him to rise and take the controls once more.  They were bare inches from one another, her chest heaving as though she’d run a marathon.  It was as close as they’d ever been, especially now that they were mostly alone, without anything between them.  Not for the first time she felt exposed under his gaze, as though he was seeing who she was and there was nowhere, no lie she could ever conjure up that would cover her up again.  She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.

She reached up and tangled a hand in his hair, tugging him without hurry down until his lips pressed to hers, hair soft as she took a great handful of it and pulled gently.  He moaned, yielding without question, and giving a quiet whine against the invasion of her tongue as she licked into his mouth, forcing his submission with little contest.  She pressed her body against his, the heat between her legs evident against the chilly leather of his outfit.  There, now he could see what he did to her, the passion bubbling far too close to the surface for her comfort.  If the hardness of his body pressing into her abdomen was any indicator at least the feeling was mutual.  

She pulled away only when she had to, cheeks flushed from a lack of oxygen.  

“Good,” she said with a smile.  “Thank you--.”

“Don’t you dare,” he said, though he smirked and stepped away from her to look at the horizon.  His brow knitted together.  “Wake the oaf up.  We need a plan, and quick.”  

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies about the long wait between updates: life has been insane, but I hope this chapter makes up for it!

They decided it was best that Natasha didn’t hear the plan.  Not knowing exactly what the Aether could do, or how it would react in Malekith’s presence, Loki helped Natasha find at least a few minutes of sleep, though she’d kept his eye for as long as she could as he weaved the spell with his soft words, not sure what to expect.  What if it ended up killing her, making her an easier transport and less collateral damage to worry about?  

She didn’t have long to think about it, though, eyes closing without issue as his words grew quieter and quieter, the dark world softening around her until she was lulled entirely to sleep.  That was one thing, it seemed.  Rest was another.  The moment she shut her eyes and her subconscious shifted into that of a less aware state, the world changed with it, reddened, and the whispers of the Aether filled her ears again.  They called once more for chaos, for the destruction of those who had wronged her, those who had ripped Natalia Romanova apart and pieced her carelessly back together as Natasha Romanov, as the Black Widow, who’d tipped the scales and dipped her ledger in red, letting it soak through so deep it would never be clean again.  She knew she could do it.  Could win against them.  She could return to Russia, head held high, and decimate the building once known as the Red Room, could track Ivan down, and all the other bastards who’d used her as science experiment the moment she’d consented to the treatments, not having warned her exactly what it was she was signing up for.  She could pull them apart, skin them alive and listen to them scream as their blood covered her hands, as it blackened, atoned for what they’d made her do.  

She could.  

Her eyes snapped open but she wasn’t seeing, not really, the strength and promise of what she could do singing its siren song in her ear, begging her to act.  To seek out Malekith, the one who could help her.  As she felt their craft move she turned around, licking her lips and setting her gaze finally on the enormous black ship she’d heard of in Asgard, at least fifty or so times larger than the one they’d used to escape out of the shining city.  Figures, small as insects, were stepping from the ship, congregating at the base.

“Malekith,” she murmured quietly, feeling rather than hearing Thor’s responding growl.  She could feel his rage, too, feel it simmering just below the surface, feel it reach out to her.  He was hurting, this she knew, though his attempts to seek justice, to take out the dark elf, would not bring him peace.  She knew this but could say nothing, her lips sealing themselves as their craft landed on the rocky top of a cliff.  Thor moved to the edge, Natasha staying where she was, forcing herself to breathe even as the thought ran through her head to push him down it.  To offer him to Malekith.  No.  She shook her head hard, trying to resist the call of the power within her veins.  No, if anyone would be sacrificed to, it would be to her.  She would be a goddess to these, a true goddess, one of rage and power and absolute control.  She fought the quirk that tried to pull up her lips at the thought, imagining the world bowing down to her, as Loki turned to Thor.  

“You still don’t trust me, brother?” He asked, sounding incredulous and surprised at the same time.  

Natasha couldn’t see Thor’s face, the expression on it solely for Loki.  “Would you?”  He asked.  Natasha watched with surprise as he undid his brother’s shackles, tossed them to the side so they hit the ground with a dull, metallic thud.  

“No I wouldn’t.”  

There was a shout that had Natasha’s fullest attention as Loki drove the handle of a dagger, having been pulled out of seemingly nowhere, and stabbed his brother in the side, shoving him down the side of the cliff before jumping down after him with a grin on his face.  Natasha, just seconds behind, shouted for him, struggling to get down to the bottom in time.  The Aether almost seemed to pull her closer, moving her nearer to the tension and the drama, the high emotions rising between them giving it something to feed off of.  

“You really think I cared about Frigga, about any of you?” She could hear Loki saying as she struggled down the last few feet of the cliff, her heart thudding hard in her chest.  Loki’s foot connected with Thor’s face, and Natasha couldn’t understand it.  Why wasn’t Thor fighting back?  Why didn’t he do anything?  He had Mjolnir, didn’t he?  But no, the hammer was lying on the top of the cliff where he’d left it.  Not for much longer, Nat thought, as she heard the ‘shing’ of it as it moved through the air, flying towards him, before Loki grabbed him by the wrist and sliced his hand off without issue, the limb falling useless to the ground and Thor shouting in agony as Mjolnir sailed right past.  

All the while, Malekith and his company grew closer.  

Nat was close enough now to reach out to Thor, trying to get to him and help, but Loki grabbed her around the waist.  Between the Aether clinging to him, forcing her to press her body hard against his, as if the power and desire for destruction was calling it to him, and Nat attempting to break free, to land an elbow to his gut or a fist to his face, he didn’t have a difficult time subduing her.  

“MALEKITH!” He shouted, knife still in hand as the dark elf came closer, the name sending shivers up Natasha’s spine as she looked back at Loki.  

“Let me go you son of a bitch,” she snarled, stomping on his foot, but he held her fast, smirking down at her.  

“Silence, wench,” he said, voice thick with a mix of revulsion and desire, a strange combination for sure that set her skin ablaze.  He, however, had turned his attention to the pale-skinned man opposite him.  “I am Loki of Jotunheim, and I bring you a gift,” he smirked as he tightened his hold on Natasha further, her body pressed harder against his and with a slight gasp she felt him firm against her backside.  He was getting off on this, the sick fuck.  “All I ask for: a good seat from which to watch Asgard burn, and the wench.  I have a score to settle with her, if there’s anything left when you’re done.”  He said with a sneer before shoving her down to the ground.  Thor, all the while, groaned, clutching his injury, and Nat felt a shred of anger rip through her as she stared at him.  For all the strength he boasted of, all the goodness that fueled him, the rage that burned just below the surface, he was useless without a hand?  Malekith hardly seemed to notice Natasha, stepping closer to Thor to push the man over onto his back, foot grinding into his throat as he coaxed the blond man to look at him.  

“Watch as your world is brought to its knees,” Malekith said, voice dark, as one hand extended towards Nat.  She swallowed a scream as she felt herself being lifted, against her will, not only to her feet but hovering above the ground.  Her blood was on fire, the Aether turning her innards to jelly as it coursed through her body before being pulled out of her by some sort of might Natasha was unfamiliar with.  As it went, though, it left images with her, of her world cracked in half, the sun having gone dark, all heat from the world extinguished as it froze and split into thousands of pieces.  Every realm went with it, splintering, falling apart, as Svartalfheim blossomed.  

The Aether resurfaced just outside of her body, which felt as though she was being flayed alive in front of them, yet for all the pain she couldn’t scream.  

“LOKI, NOW!”  

Thor’s shout was enough to jolt her out of her own mind, and as she dropped to the ground, spent and exhausted, Thor raised Mjolnir in the same hand that had once been cut off and was now back in its proper place.  Moments later and Loki’s body covered her as lightning rained down from the sky, catching on the red shards of the Aether that had once hovered.  Nat covered her head as a funnel cloud of red and black smoke started, blowing sand and rock out of the way as it all be exploded above them.  When the light finally died down there were pieces of what looked like red, shattered glass on the ground all around them, each starting to move of their own volition, and while Natasha swore they should’ve gone towards Malekith they seemed to close in on her.  

_‘No--no!’_

She tried to push them away, but the shards glanced off of her, seeping instead into Loki’s body, absorbed into his veins through his fingertips.  His eyes snapped shut, and moments later they opened once more, green tinted with red.  The grin he shot down at her was the most terrifying thing she’d ever seen, followed shortly by a loud “NO!” from Malekith.  

Loki shot him backwards with a gust of red energy, and though the force was removed from her body Natasha could feel it surging within Loki as he moved off of her, Thor facing him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, the other dark elves unsure what to do.  

“You shouldn’t have killed my mother,” Loki snarled as he advanced on Malekith, his limbs moving with a predatory grace that Natasha had never seen before, shoving dark elves out of his way before taking the elf’s head in his hands and pressing a hand to his lips.  Thor had backed up towards Natasha, his mouth pressed into a thin line, and they watched in muted horror as the elf seemed to be burning from alive, screaming as Loki’s fingers pressed harder to him, his skin turning blue, then black with frostbite until eventually he shattered in Loki’s hold, shards of a tyrant scattered on his desolate homeland.  


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez, third update of the day x-x my brain hurts. Enjoy!

Nothing moved, and yet everything seemed to be shifting and altering all at once, Natasha’s perceptions of what she’d once thought to be concrete, solid ideas bubbling and evaporating into the air around her as she struggled to wrap her mind around what was happening.  In front of her Loki practically pulsated with power and anger, his lips curling as he took in the dark elves and the monster that had come with them, none of Malekith’s men moving, as though they were still trying to process what had just happened.  Hell, what had just happened?  She’d assumed that the Aether would be pulled towards Malekith but--.

Power.  That was all it had ever wanted.  Power, and revenge, and fury, perhaps even stronger than Malekith’s had been.  She’d felt the Aether pulling towards him when they’d been so near, and now?  Now it had finally found him.  So what the hell did that mean for the rest of them?

“Well?”  Loki finally said, the word cracking with near excitement as he held his arms out at his side, the dagger still gripped tight, his green eyes dancing as he took in his would-be foes and laughed.  Nat didn’t think she’d ever heard something so terrifying as it echoed across the empty landscape.  “Your leader is dead and now you’ve lost your stones?”  He laughed again, and this time his gaze met Natasha’s, taking in her horrified stare and seeming to feed on it.  She could practically hear him demanding her attention, and shuddered under his gaze.  Thor stepped in front of her, and that was quick enough to get Loki’s attention, the amusement in his face dying down as his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed.  Not that he had much time to focus on it.  

The enormous beast charged Loki, who was far quicker than ever as he sidestepped the creature and slammed his elbow into its back, then brought his knee up to its gut.  It hardly seemed to do a thing, whipping back up and slamming its fist into Loki’s chest.  The trickster absorbed the blow as though it were nothing, though with the size of the horned monster Nat couldn’t imagine it would be so painless.  Instead, he summoned the Aether inside of him, shooting it towards his adversary, the red smoke turning to red knife-like spears that slashed and cut at the darkened flesh of the creatures.  

There wasn’t much time for Natasha to watch them fight.  Thor pushed her behind him as the other dark elves snapped into action, quickly circling the duo.  Mjolnir crashed into the skull of the first stupid enough to attack, though Thor left himself open on his left.  From one of the folds of the Asgardian dress she’d been given, Nat pulled out a knife just thin enough to slide into the cracks between the armor and slit the throat of the attacking elf.  It fell in a crumpled heap of armor and muscle before another pressed forward and she had to duck down to avoid a blow to the head, kicking her legs out to take its legs out from underneath.  As it fell, she managed to scramble close enough to snap its neck, feeling some leftover spark of the Aether within her singing in her blood at the chaos and turmoil around her.  If she was enjoying it she could only imagine how Loki felt.  

Thor had flown off to help his brother after having finished off the other dark elves, leaving Natasha to run afterwards, though her gaze stole to the enormous ship, where more elves seemed to be pouring from.  She felt her stomach drop out, and picked up the pace to run towards Loki and Thor once more.  

Except neither of them were fighting the monster she’d seen going towards them, but one another.  

“Give the Aether up, Loki!” Thor demanded as he shot a bolt of lightning towards his brother.  “Do not do this!  Do not go down this path!” He shouted.  

Loki absorbed the blow with a laugh, before shooting it back at his brother.  “You thought I was powerful before, brother, but wait until you see me now.”  He positively crackled with energy, Nat was astounded to see, her mouth dropping open as he summoned his powers once more to shove his brother back, the red knives coming out to cut at his brother’s skin.  “Now stay out of my way!”  He shouted, pushing his brother down to his knees.  “While I destroy these pathetic creatures.”  So he had caught sight of the dark elves, then, now making their way cautiously closer.  Nat had stepped away from the fighting brothers, not sure how she could be a help or hinder, certain that interacting or defending Thor would end up in the death of them both.  Or worse.  Loki caught her gaze as he walked past and the smirk he gave her was cutting as his eyes lit up with power.  

“Thank you, Agent Romanov, for your cooperation this time,” he said, and before she could do much else he gripped her by the wrist and crushed his lips against hers, the kiss bruising and biting and perfect and over more quickly than she could’ve imagined, Loki striding across the barren waste of Svartalfheim to take on the oncoming elves.  

Dazed, she didn’t notice the beast that had once been Malekith’s cohort rising from where he’d been lying, throwing Thor to the side when the god attempted to stop him, and instead going after Loki, who was caught in the blood rush and lust of the battle engaged between himself and four other opponents, his movements swift and certain, but not nearly enough.  

“Loki look out!” Nat felt herself shouting, even as the horned monster’s enormous strides brought him closer to the man.  He turned around just in time for the spear that had been left on the ground from one of the fallen warriors to be shoved through his chest.  His green eyes went wide, petrified of what had just happened, and with a shout the Aether revolted against the death of its host, pulling itself quickly from Loki’s body and moving into the nearest strong target, the beast itself.  As Loki’s now limp body fell to the ground, doubling over with pain, the beast stepped over him and towards the ship, leading what few dark elves were standing.  Thor, who was making his way back towards the battle ground, looking far worse than wear, gave a loud cry as he saw his younger brother collapsed on the ground, curled up in the fetal position, as Nat ran closer to slide beside Loki, turning him gently over onto his back so she could look at him.  She brought her hand down to the wound, ripping part of her dress off to use as a way to stem the flow, but the wound went clean through him and her hands were coated in the blue, sticky liquid.  Blue?  

His skin was turning a similar, dark color, and though she put as much pressure onto the wound to try and stop it from bleeding so much he gazed up at her.  

“Loki, you great fool,” Thor said, dropping down beside him and searching himself, as though for some medical tool.  Finding none, he gave a cry and took his brothers cool hands in his own.  “You should have listened to me.”

“I know--.”  The dark haired man stuttered, his lips shaking as he formed words.  “I am a fool.  I’m sorry--I’m so-so sorry Th--.  Na--.”

“Don’t talk like that, you’re going to be fine,” Natasha asserted, gritting her teeth as she tried to hold it together, pressing on his wound despite the shouting in her head that it wasn’t going to be enough to stop him.  He was fading fast, growing cold as his body processed what little adrenaline it had left before it eventually succumbed.  “C’mon Loki.  You’re the trickster.  You can pull through this,” she said, her eyes finding his and holding his gaze as Thor took his brother into his arms to hold him through it, trying to warm him back up and keep him still.  “We need you to keep harrassing the universe.  It would get boring without you.”  She said, forcing herself to smile.  It felt like a grimace.  

His own laugh was shaky.  “Would that I could d-do that,” he managed to rasp, before licking his lips and looking over to his brother.  

“I will tell father what you did today,” Thor murmured, leaning down to press his lips to his brother’s forehead.  “Songs will be sung of your strength, brother mine.”

“I didn’t do it for him,” Loki said, though Nat had to concentrate to hear him completely, his voice so faint it was a miracle he had any left.  His usual pale color had disappeared entirely, replaced by the strange, blue tint and markings that seemed as though they’d been hiding just below the surface.  When he stopped moving Thor gave a fierce, loud cry, nearly swallowed up by the rumble of thunder and the whipping winds around them that his grief inspired.  Nat had to blink quickly, unable to believe what she’d just seen.  He’d been strong, powerful enough to kill Malekith not moments ago, and now?  

Now they had to get moving.  She hated it, hated that there was no time for Thor to mourn the second casualty this fight had brought, for if Frigga hadn’t gotten better after Malekith’s death then it was unlikely she would recover at all, but they had no time.  

“Thor, we need to get going,” she rasped, wiping her wet cheeks and standing slowly.  “We’ll bring him to a cavern, right over there,” she promised.  “So his body won’t be disturbed, but we have to go.  The elves--.”

“Another moment.  Please,” Thor begged, and she nearly broke as his voice cracked.  She didn’t disturb him again, not until he rose with his brother in his arms, stoic as he walked in the direction she’d pointed out.  The storm was whipping sand in their eyes, and Nat had to bring an arm up in front of her face to keep from being blinded as they struggled through it.  The only reprieve was found within the cave she’d pointed out, and it was there that Thor deposited his brother’s limp body, his face blank of all emotion as he closed his brother’s eyes and turned away.  Nat swallowed thickly, reaching up to take the back of his neck and force him to look down at her.  

“Thor, I’m so sorry, and your brother will get the funeral rites he deserves, I promise,” she found herself saying quietly, threading her fingers through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck as gently as she could.  He hardly seemed to be hearing her, and she tugged gently on his hair to get his attention.  She really needed him to focus.  It was a lot, she knew, and she wished they had the proper time to mourn it all, but that wasn’t an option at the moment.  Quickly, she blathered on about what Malekith had planned, having seen it all as the Aether had flown from her body and out into the open.  She was certain, now, that his second in command was moving to do the same.  

“So how do we get from here to--.”

A loud chirping, like that of a bird, came from inside her clothing, taking her aback so much that it silenced her and caught Thor’s full attention.  

“It’s not me,” he said when she didn’t move, as though she was concerned he was making the bird noises, and she shook her head quickly, fiddling with her robes until she caught the device in her fingers and slid the lock across the screen to answer.  

“Clint!?”

“Well hey--you do remember me!  Funny, huh?  Your rugged, handsome partner in not-crime, y’know, scared shitless because you haven’t called me and Jane Foster keeps irritating SHIELD saying that you disappeared, yet here you are--!”

“Wait, Clint, where are you?”

Silence.  “HQ.”

What.  The hell.  How was that happening?  Her mind vaulted, trying to comprehend how it was that she was getting any sort of signal, let alone connection, out in the middle of another planet, feet taking her subconsciously deeper into the cavern.  Thor followed her, crunching aluminum cans and other pieces of garbage under his feet.  

“Why are there so many shoes here?” He muttered, confused beyond belief.  

“Nat, is that Thor?” Clint asked.  “Where are you?  You keep breaking up.”  

Nat allowed herself a grin as she bent down and snatched Darcy’s car keys from the ground, dusting them off and recognizing the small red dice dangling from the end.  

“Nat?  Na--.”  

They pressed further on until they were no longer in the cavern, Thor and Natasha stepping out into the darkened alleyway near where Jane had first discovered the portals with the help of the children, where this had all gotten started.  Funny how it all seemed to circle back around.  “I’ll call you later,” Nat promised Clint, though she wasn’t quite sure he got the message, her phone beeping that the battery was dead seconds later, and so she pocketed it and strode towards where Darcy’s car had been parked, thrilled to see that it hadn’t been moved.  It was a little worse for wear, certainly, with the windows either punched in or graffitied, but it was there, and it sputtered to life when Nat pressed the keys into the ignition.  

“Was that agent Barton?  How is he?”  Thor asked after he’d settled into the small car, taking up the entire passenger half with his bulk.  

Nat shrugged.  “Still chirping, I guess.”  She said with the smallest of smiles at the strange turn of luck in their favor.  She took off towards Jane’s apartment, hoping the astrophysicist would be there, and would have a more elegant explanation for what the hell the dark elves would do.  

 

* * *

 

 

Loki had felt the wound begin to heal as soon as Thor had picked him up, as though some strange sliver of the Aether still worked through him, feeding his magic enough that his body had begun to repair itself once the shock of the wound had faded away.  Still, he played through his death, waiting until the two had disappeared out the back of the cavern to blink his eyes and spit out the sand that had found its way into his mouth.  Sitting up with a grimace, he froze as he heard the sound of one of Asgard’s flying boats drawing nearer.  A scouting party, likely sent by Odin he figured, the king growing slow in his age if it had taken him this long to get someone out to ensure his heir was alive.  

Loki allowed himself a smirk as the guard grew closer.  Perfect.  Disguises had always been a bit of a speciality, and Thor would be expecting a body when he returned to give Loki his burial rights.  

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

They met Jane at what had once been her mother’s flat within London.  The astrophysicist looked startled to see the pair of them, her eyes going wide as she took in their bizarre apparel and Thor’s less than entirely intact appearance, hands and face still bloodied from the fight.

“You’ve really got to stop doing that,” Jane said to Thor, “Disappearing and reappearing when you please.”  Nat caught the hint of a smile in the corners of her lips.  At least she had a good sense of humor, Nat supposed, stepping inside after the woman and tossing the keys of her car to an astounded looking Darcy.  

“You might want them back,” Nat said with a dip of her head.  Thor was silent beside her, staring around the small apartment, looking far too big for it and far less concerned with being there, his mind obviously elsewhere.  Nat took his hand in her own, squeezing it, bringing him back down to earth.  She felt, more than saw, Jane’s gaze flit towards where their hands had met, could all but feel the confusion as it ebbed from the woman and seeped into the room before it was quickly replaced with the more important one about where they’d been and what had happened.  Nat would have to explain the details to her later, she supposed, but Thor needed support then.  

“We went to Asgard--that thing, power surge or whatever that knocked me over?  It’s called the Aether, and right now that power source is in the hands of an enemy that’s got a grudge match against all the realms,” Nat said quickly, releasing Thor’s hand in favor of folding her arms over her chest.  “The dark elves--Malekith, I guess--was going to use it to plunge the nine realms into eternal darkness. I saw it,” she said, swallowing thickly.  “And even though he’s dead, his second in command is going to do the same, I’m sure of it.  Finish his work.  It’s what they need in order to survive in our world is for the light--the sun?  They need that to go out.”  She swallowed thickly.  “Then they can reclaim the nine realms as their own.  Now, the only reason that we were able to shift between worlds was because of the portals.”

“Like the ones at the factory?” Darcy interjected, her brow furrowed as she stood from the seat near the center of the living room.  

“Yes.  Exactly,” Natasha said.  “Have you found more?”

“Are you kidding?  There have been reports of these things going off everywhere,” Jane said, picking up a bulky looking piece of technology and showing it to Natasha, rattling off a quick explanation that went completely over her head about how they keep appearing then disappearing at sporadic moments, no sense of reason or purpose behind the shifting of portals other than they kept centering in different continents.  “SHIELD keeps calling to ask whether we’ve got anything going that keeps causing them, or if we can stop them but--.”

“But?”  Nat hated those.

“There’s no sort of warning factor.  If we could just figure out where they’re trying to localize.  I already sent over my blueprints of this baby,” she patted the box in her hands, “so they could at least get readings on where the portals would be when they turned up.”

Nat could’ve kissed her.  Good, that means they could get Tony or Bruce on replicating it and at least be somewhat prepared.  At least they wouldn’t be without some semblance of knowledge.  

“Any other clues as to where to start looking for this convergence point?” Nat asked.

“I mean we could look for wherever gravity is weakest, where these phenomenons seem to be localizing--.”

From the corner there came a cry, Selvig’s head popping up from where he’d planted it on the desk.  Nat hadn’t even noticed him the first time around, though she was pleased to see he at least looked lucid.  Though he didn’t say anything to them he turned, not exactly a sight Nat had really cared to see, to shuffle a few things off of a table near the back of the living room, grumbling under his breath about something or other.  Right.  

“Has anything made its way through?” Thor finally asked, voice thick and gravelly, a certain calling to fight that made the sky above them thunder.  The intern gave a small start at the noise and Darcy shot him a smirk.

“Nerd,” she said, almost fondly.  

“Not that we’ve heard of,” Jane answered, her eyes fixing on Thor, brow pulled down as she folded her arms over her chest, almost as though she was readying herself.  “Should there be?”

“It is possible.  The spaces between the realms with be very thin, near nonexistent,” Thor said.  “As is the nature of the convergence.”  

“It’s what I’ve been saying!”  Selvig’s voice said, coming from the table he was currently hunched over, circling specific points on what looked to be a map.  Nat rather liked Selvig, though that was when he was wearing pants admittedly, but after he’d helped her shut the portal down she’d looked into helping him find a decent rehabilitation center to help him deal with the madness that Loki had forced into his brain through the tesseract.  At least it had worked well enough to keep his wits with him.  He looked up to quickly greet both Thor and Nat, not having said a word before, before launching into his explanation about how the ancients had utilized the thinning gravity at certain weaker points around the world.  They seemed, this time, to revolve around a certain point in Greenwich as he pointed out in the map, taking the tallied points where they’d found the most portals and connecting the lines that ran straight through the country.  “It’s likely the realms will all converge here.”

“And with all the realms aligned,” Jane finished.  “The power of whatever it is will be strengthened.”

 _‘Great.’_ Nat thought.  “Anywhere else they could hit?”

“Doubtful,” Selvig said.  “Our climate is the most similar to their own, in comparison to Southern America or Egypt. which I suspect will be the other two most weakened points around the Aztec, Incan, and Mayan ruins, and around the Pyramids.”  

It made sense Nat supposed, and after pressing a couple buttons she got a hold of Fury, relaying the same information to him to ensure that they were well enough prepared.  He’d informed her that Sitwell’s team had already run into problems near Machu Picchu.  Apparently an enormous, scaled monster with antlers had started chasing tourists, and Thor, who was standing near enough to overhear Fury’s exasperated tone, winced.  

“Tell them to go for the head and neck, the weakest points,” he murmured to Natasha, who filled Fury in, watching as Thor moved to hang Mjolnir on one of the pegs near the door.  She allowed herself an affectionate smile, ending her conversation just as the demigod moved to speak with Darcy about what else they had planned, Jane moving to look over readings of her own.  Seizing the moment, Nat tapped Jane on the shoulder and asked where her things had been put.  Her Asgardian gown had been ripped and torn but was otherwise still in decent condition.  She longed for her suit, though, glad she’d at least brought something comparable to leave at the house.  She needed to be ready for anything, at any time, she supposed.  Jane led her through one of the smaller hallways towards the room Nat’s dufflebag had been “ Nat said, keeping her voice down.  “Do you know of anyway to keep these things from coming through, or how to manipulate it?” She asked, looking back through the hall to where Darcy was going on about how birds had apparently attacked all four of them, Thor chuckling good humoredly at the tale.  She tried to take solace in the solid nature of his laugh, how strong it was despite all they’d been through.  She hated to say that she was shaking, that it had nothing with the cold of the evening, but she wasn’t entirely over Lokis’ death.  How could someone that powerful with the Aether intact still be so mortal and fragile?  Perhaps the beast would be as well, though he’d evaded being pierced or pummeled even by Mjollnir.  

And how the hell was she supposed to fight against a creature such as that?  She hated not having solid information to draw upon, no facts to use as reference.  Jane, it seemed, was the same, swallowing thickly as she turned back to look at the spy following her.  

“We’ve got a few items that might--well, Selvig does.  They should be able to mess with the seams between worlds, so to speak, but there’s no guarantee that it’ll work, nothing for certain.  Just hope and guessing.”  She shook her head.  “Might be able to pull from this world and transport the matter, I mean it’s worked before but that was without the shift in gravity and--.”

“Jane, I’m sorry,” Nat cut her off mid-swing.  “Because I know you know what you’re doing.  And I trust you.  But I need as definite an answer as I can get.  Please.”  She sighed.  “I just need something so I can come up with an idea or a plan.”

Jane allowed herself a small smile, and Nat was surprised to see the strength burning through her eyes as she reached out to take Nat by the shoulder.  “Then let’s work on a plan.  That’s all you had to say,” she teased.  

Nat’s own face loosened a little.  Right.  Of course.  She nodded, thanking Jane when she offered her the room to change in, but before she could leave entirely.  “Also, about Thor--.”

Jane shook her head, turning back to face Nat.  “None of my business.  You had a point before, about the pressures before and between Thor and I.  If you two are together than that’s fine.  I’m not about to tell you it’s not allowed or anything,” she laughed, a sound Nat was relieved to hear.  There didn’t seem to be enough of it.  “I appreciate you talking to me about it.”

Nat’s cheeks ached from the strain of keeping up the smile, even as her heart lightened with the relief of not having to worry about drama or stepped on toes because really, as if this job hadn’t gotten messy enough.  “You’re far more clever than you’re given credit for, Jane.”

Jane’s grin grew, bright as any sun.  “I know,” she half teased before moving to rejoin the rest, closing the door behind her.  

 

When the others finally went to sleep sometime around two in the morning, Nat and Thor taking up residence in the small living room, pillows and blankets provided for the pair, Thor pressed his lips gently to Nat’s.  “Thank you,” he said, voice so quiet she had to rely on the rumble in his chest to tell what he was saying.  “For everything.  This ought not to have been your burden to bear.”

“It’s not a problem,” Nat promised, cupping the side of his face and sitting closer to kiss his forehead.  “I’m glad to be here with you, burden or not,” she said, breath ghosting over his chilled skin, and tried not to think of how cold Loki’s hands had been.  This wouldn’t end the same way.  Thor wouldn’t die, she had to believe it.  None of them would.  There had been far too much death already, and for someone who was usually so close to it, who dealt in it on a daily basis, waded through the bodies of the dead and dying to finish her job, Natasha found herself unsettled by it.  This was different, she had to remind herself.  She wasn’t compromised, she was simply adjusting.  Her silence hadn’t gone unnoticed by Thor, who took both her hands in one of his own enormous ones, and with the second cupped the back of her head and tilted her face upwards to kiss her hard, pouring his sorrow, his inner turmoil, everything into it until she felt the wetness on his cheeks and the shaking in his shoulders.  

“We’ll avenge them both, I promise,” she said as she pulled him into her arms,keeping him there all night, neither sleeping very much.  

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

The guard who came to observe the damage done was easy enough to overpower, the man having presumed Loki to be dead and never guessing the trickster could've jumped up and dragged his dagger from his side to plunge it into the man’s gut.  As the lights dimmed from the man’s eyes Loki absorbed his knowledge of the past few days, gasping to find that Frigga lay, still fighting for her life in the healing rooms, that her condition had not improved but still she clung to life.  Thor had lied to him, and while Loki might’ve been impressed any other time, it only stiffened his resolve for what he must do.  Donning the man’s disguise as his own, he transformed the dead guard’s into that of his own, an inhuman chill creeping up Loki’s spine at the sight of his own, prone body, the red blood a strange contrast to the same blue that had covered his own skin, though the fake-Loki’s skin was still that off-blue tint.  Thor would never know for certain, he supposed.  Hoped.  And should Thanos or the Other find his supposed dead body, as they were likely to do he knew, then he would be freed from their attentions as well, left well enough alone.

Odin would be an entirely different story.  

With ease he made his way back into Asgard, the shifting between the realms made all the easier due to the nearing convergence.  All he could hope for now was that Heimdall was far too busy watching over Thor rather than focusing on the supposedly dead Loki.  Odin remained in the throne room when Loki stepped inside, pressing his fist to the opposite shoulder and moving to kneel in front of the man who had once been his father, face tipped downwards so Odin could not see the hint of a scowl that played on Loki’s lips at the subservient position.  

“My king,” he said quickly.  “There was no sign of Thor, the mortal, nor Malekith or Kurse,” he said, sounding regretful.  “But we did find a body.”  

There was a slight pause and suddenly the air shifted, growing thicker, charged.  Loki tried not to smirk, certain in the hesitation in Odin’s voice, and though Loki left his head bowed his body went rigid with anticipation.  A minute, two minutes.  

_‘Say it, fool!  Say my name!’_

“Loki.”  There was no question within Odin’s voice, and Loki tipped his head up, eyes glinting and lips twisting with a knowing smirk.  The doors slammed shut to every entrance in the throne room, held tight by what Aether power he had left as Odin stood, Gungnir in hand and pointed at Loki.  The blast that ought to have shot Loki through the chest went through the illusion he cast, blasting through one of the pillars as Loki reappeared just behind his surrogate father.  

“Hello father,” he smirked, dipping into a deep, over exaggerated bow that allowed him to miss a blow Odin aimed towards his head, a magician who’d pulled off his greatest magic trick.  The second blast that should’ve leveled him went through the projection once more, Loki having been made much faster through the Aether’s strength and power, which still thrummed in his veins.  Odin could hardly keep up.  

“Coward,” he shouted, wheeling about in an attempt to find Loki’s true form.  He collided with Loki’s head when the tip of the spear whirled around.  

Loki laughed and grabbed the tip of it, dancing to the side so the next attack glanced off another pillar.  “You’re getting slow old man,” he snarled, driving his fit into Odin’s gut when he could reach it, pulling the elderly man closer with Gungnir, and then grabbing him hard by the arm and twisting it around so he shouted with pain, Loki feeling the bone break beneath his grip.  The spear fell to the floor, and Loki drove the dagger still wet with the guard’s blood into his father’s ribs, slicing through the armor as though it was made of paper and driving through the bones until it found his heart.  

“Now sleep, father,” he grimaced, pressing harder as Odin choked on blood, clawing at Loki’s face with his one good arm.  Loki simply pushed it out of the way.  “Sleep and be done with it,” he growled, covering Odin’s mouth with his other free hand, beard scratching and familiar and from his mouth Loki drew something else.  The man’s body injured, his soul and life force sought to escape it as well, prepared to fly to Hela if Loki had not caught it.  Once in his palm he released the dagger and sheathed it once more at his side, watching as Odin’s lax body fell to the floor and swiftly shimmered into that of the other guard.  The memories of the Allfather flew into Loki, centuries upon centuries of information and past events flooding his mind until he could hardly breathe, forcing himself to take on the appearnce of the man he’d once hated so much.  Now?  Now he couldn’t say how he felt, the magic keeping the doors barred disappearing so that far more guards could flood the hall, shouting to ensure their king was safe and his attacker dead.  As they dragged the body of the true Allfather out to be burned, Loki summoned Gungnir to him and clutched the remaining energy from Odin’s body tight in his other hand.  He would peruse the memories of Odin at a later date, feet already taking him down towards the healing rooms where he could only assume Frigga was still trying to heal.  He had a debt to repay.  

 _‘Red in the ledger,’_ he couldn’t help but think. _‘I need to wipe it out, and Odin still has one last gift to give.’_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, big shout out to Kim for coming up with and introducing me to this fabulous headcanon where Odin DOES in fact recognize Loki. This chapter is for her <3


	13. Chapter 13

Their plan was rudimentary at best, and frankly Nat wasn’t quite sure what to think of it.  Thor would distract the dark elves for as long as was necessary to try and miss the convergence, while Selvig and Jane would utilize the gravitational spikes that Darcy and Ian would set up all around the area.  And Natasha?  Well, she wasn’t quite sure there was for her to do.  With a beast like the one Thor was sizing up she had little to no chance physically, and there was no reasoning with the beast the way she’d done with Loki in New York.  For the first time she felt, well, excessive.  Out of place.  Was this how Fury felt as he watched the other Avengers going into battle?  No, even then he at least called the shots, while all of this was so out of Natasha’s comfort zone and understanding it was near damn ridiculous.  She supposed she could take on the other dark elves while Thor fought the biggest, but that was what the spikes were for, she thought.  

 _‘Protect the civilians,’_ she reminded herself as she looked over at them, Jane and Selvig murmuring quietly to one another as Jane looked over the mechanism in her hands, the astrophysicist tinkering with the nozzles as she went over how it worked with the doctor, while Darcy and Ian to her side shared a pair of earbuds, Darcy blabbering on about the new songs on her iPod as they drove, all of them keen to almost forget that they were going off to fight beings that were out of this world.  As if it were a daily occurrence.  

 _‘Shouldn’t I be more that way?’_  Nat couldn’t help but wonder.  She’d had similar experience to fighting aliens, and fighting alongside them as well, yet the strange thrum in her veins and the bobbing of her right leg was enough to prove that things weren’t wholly alright.  Thor had already gone on ahead, wishing to take a quick surveillance of the area, and Nat longed for his steadiness, for the familiarity of having another team member nearby.  But this was monsters, and magic, and nothing she’d ever been trained for she reminded herself.  Perhaps nerves were a good sign.  They’d keep her on her toes, certainly, and that could mean everything when it came to keeping her alive, and keeping them all alive as well.  

Classes were still in session by the time they got there, and as Darcy and Ian ran around setting up the spikes, Natasha, Selvig, and Jane went through the enormous library, Jane trying to tell the students that had surrounded to leave, that it was too dangerous for them.  Not that it was any use.  By that time they’d spotted Thor, who’d come to stand in center of the courtyard judging by the way that the students shouted about him and pulled out their cellphones. It’d be trending on twitter any time now, Nat was certain, picking up the pace as she kept close to the two scientists.  

“Idiots,” Jane was muttering under her breath.  “They’ll get themselves killed for a good look.”

“Isn’t that what you were doing the first time that you saw the bifrost bringing Thor down?” Natasha asked, though her tone was light enough to make the astrophysicist smile despite her blush.  

“That was science.  Different.  They’re just being stupid,” she muttered but she looked back down at the computer in her grasp before holding out a hand to Selvig, who passed her the phone with Darcy on the other line.  “Nearly done?”

“Yeah just a--HOLY SHIT!”  

They didn’t have to look far to see what Darcy was shouting about, the whole ground pitching them forward a few paces as the enormous hull of the Dark Elves’ ship crashed into the courtyard.  Nat’s eyes sought out Thor, looking so small standing in front of the monstrous piece of technology.  Her own phone was out moments later, Fury on the other line, telling him that it was time.  He thanked her for the information and mobilized two jets to try and take on the threat himself, as Natasha watched with bated breath while the horned monster stepped from the alien craft, his henchmen in tow, and strode towards Thor.  

Nothing was said that Natasha could hear between the two of them, and soon enough the fight was on, the monster taking the first crack at Thor’s skull, the poisonous air of the Aether pushing the Asgardian backwards, though Thor quickly retaliated with a lightning beam of his own, striking the creature on the top of the head.  The beast seemed to absorb it, however, charging instead at Thor.  

Nat had to pull her eyes away to turn her attention instead to the oncoming dark elves.  Stings at the ready, gun already cocked and in hand, positioned at the headplate of the nearest elf, she muttered: “Now might be a good time to make sure that your gravitational spikes work, Jane.”  

“Trying,” Jane said, sounding stressed as the antagonists stepped closer and Nat gritted her teeth.  Shit shit shit.  She hoped bullets were good enough to work against them, because if not she only had so many stings, and she was certain there were more of them than there were of her own weapons.  

She’d just considered squeezing off a few bullets to test their strength out before the air in front of them swallowed them entirely, rippling as the three coming to their left disappeared.  

Nat barely needed the cellphone to hear Darcy exclaiming how awesome that was, egging Jane on to get a different variety of the elves before the call went dead and Jane went pale.  

“Oh God.  Don’t tell me--.”

Eric looked down at where Darcy and Ian had been standing and blanched. “They’re not there.”

Jane swore, but she didn’t have much time to focus on it, Nat tugging she and Selvig back as Mjolnir went flying towards them, crashing into the pillars that they’d been standing under, having been hit off course by the monster Thor was fighting.  As if they hadn’t had enough problems with its size, but now its strength was leaving much to be desired in Thor’s favor.  As Mjolnir went flying back towards her owner, Nat shouted for the others to go and find a different shelter, one further away from the two combating giants, all but pushing Selvig to move faster.  The last thing she needed was losing two of the most brilliant minds SHIELD had had in awhile, though she’d never tell Tony that she counted them both that highly.  Well, not unless he pissed her off royally.  

As they ran Jane fiddled with the nozzles on the machine, and again there was another loud crack of lightning and thunder, the air heavy with the smell of ozone.  

“GET DOWN!” Nat shouted to the students still close to the windows, and only the smart ones who listened to her managed to avoid getting a face full of glass as the windows shattered, shouts of surprise and pain ringing through the library as Nat herded the two scientists out.  They needed to move faster, dammit!  Waiting for them at the end of the library, however, were a couple more of the dark elves, guns already pointed at the oncomers, their shots ricocheting off the walls as Nat pushed the others behind her.  Taking two of her stings in hand she threw them onto their arms, watching as the electricity coursed through their bodies and made them drop, limp to the ground, allowing for Nat to kick them out of the way to get Selvig and Jane somewhere else.  Anywhere but this close to the battle.  Jane actually stopped, catching sight of three other elves that were looking to gang up on Thor despite his attention being on the horned beast, and though Nat grabbed for her arm, Jane managed two twist one of the toggles just right so that the elves disappeared.  

Her shout of glee was cut short by Kurse punching Thor so far back that he, too, went through a portal.  

“Shit.”

“C’mon,” Nat urged.  “He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself,” she promised as she yanked Jane again.  “Though nice going.  Any chance you can get Darcy and Ian back?”

Jane’s face went white and she nodded, trying her hardest.  In a half minute the two reappeared in place of the approaching dark elves, Darcy’s lips mashed up against Ian’s as she dipped him low.  Oh.  Well then.  An awkward silence fell between them all as it finally hit the two that they were no longer alone.  Ian fell with a shout to the ground, Darcy looking thoroughly pleased with herself despite the red cheeks.  

“Still got it,” she grinned.  

There wasn’t much time for her to rejoice, however, as Mjolnir went racing past them, Darcy calling out her pet name for it as it narrowly avoided the column they were standing beside, Nat’s gaze following its trajectory.  Above the enormous ship, now firmly planted into the once well-manicured courtyard, a half dozen or so rings had opened up, showing different worlds.  “The Convergence,” she heard Selvig whisper, stepping even closer to get a better look at it.  “We’ve run out of time.”  

And the Aether had begun to flow through the monster, who now stepped closer to his ship, arms stretched out and head tipping upwards as the force flowed through his body and surged in drastic, enormous swirls of power, fingertips reaching up to the other realms.  Nat felt her heart pounding even harder, her eyes going wide.  They’d failed.  

No.  Impossible.  She refused to fail, not like this, not when they’d already lost so many.  It wouldn’t be--couldn’t be--for nothing.  

Thor landed near them, coming from behind and crashing hard onto the ground.  He growled as he watched Kurse, and prepared to take off to try and beat the creature back into submission, but Nat’s hand on his shoulder stopped him, her eyes catching on the nearest gravitation spikes.  “These warp the distance between the worlds, right?” She asked Jane, who looked away from the awful sight in front of her to nod.  Running forward and digging one, then two, out of the ground, she pressed them into Thor’s empty hand.  

“You can beat him.  But you can send him somewhere where the Aether can’t get to the other realms,” she reminded him, meeting his gaze with a tip of her head.  “And Jane, you can get him there.”  

The scientist nodded, her lips pulled into a tight line.  Thor considered it for half a second, then nodded.  No parting words were spoken, none of them wanting to believe that this could be the end if they didn’t succeed, and with time already running out Thor took off running towards the beast, lost in the haze of the red smoke.  Nat’s nails bit into her palms, watching the machine in Jane’s hands, praying and waiting with baited breath for something to show up, for the signals to connect or whatever.  Jane knew what she was doing, though, and the moment it beeped she twisted the toggle on the right, then the left, grinning when the signal went out.  By the time the second hit she twisted it once more, and there was a loud, blood turning scream from the center of the smoke before a tremor ran through the land, sending them all backwards in a whirlwind.  Nat’s head hit hard on the pavement below her, vision spinning as she looked up and towards where the two men had been battling.  Thor, alone, remained, though he didn’t move, and all thought for those around her vanished as Natasha scrambled to her feet and ran, full force towards him.  No, no he couldn’t be dead!  She wouldn’t allow it, dammit all!  

“Thor--Thor wake up,” she demanded, skidding to a stop at his side, catching his head between her hands and trying to feel for a pulse, finding it thready and weak but still--blessedly--there.  Not that she had time to breathe a sigh of relief.  The power surge that had blown them all back had cracked the foundations of the ship, and as she clung to Thor’s body, grateful to find him still alive, she heard it start to deteriorate, the rumbling getting louder as she looked behind her.  Fuck!  Standing quickly, she grabbed him by one of the wrists and tried to tug him away, but found him heavier than a sack of bricks.  No--no!  She pulled harder, shouting as her muscles burned and her arms nearly popped out of their sockets, but the crash never came, and the next time she looked up the entire ship had disappeared.  

She looked back to catch Jane grinning and nearly collapsed with relief.  “I owe you big time,” she called back, throat scratchy, as Thor, finally, stirred beside her.  She turned to him and snorted.  “And you need to work on your timing, because that would’ve sucked.”  

She laughed when he looked puzzledly up at her, unable to do anything else as the mirth made her whole body shake and her knees go weak.  They’d made it.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how unbeta'd this chapter is, but I wanted to get it out before I had to run to work. Hope it was worth it!


	14. Chapter 14

As far as Loki was concerned, Thor could keep the damn throne.  Whatever desire he’d had for it had vanished after the first day of it, finding it far too constricting and stifling as he heard appeal after appeal for assistance, and it wasn’t that he wasn’t able or happy to give it but by the Norns he longed for the freedom of being a second in line prince, of having little to no responsibilities, of the chaos that he’d been able to create.  Now?  Now he couldn’t wait to get away from the duties and expectancies of being king, of being Odin.  

It came with one or two perks, he supposed, one of them being that if he wanted to be wholly alone he could be.  He’d taken advantage of it as soon as he had a spare moment, heading into the infirmary to check on Frigga.  After he’d transferred Odin’s remaining life force into her decaying body he’d watched as the sickness began to abate, and within hours she’d gotten back to breathing steadily, even giving a quiet groan of pain that evening.  Loki hadn’t known a noise to sound so sweet, and as he bid the other healers to leave so he could take a seat at her side, still wearing Odin’s skin.  He nearly wept when she opened her eyes.  

“Odin?”  She rasped, looking around at the empty infirmary.  Once he was certain that all the others had gone his disguise shimmered and fell away, sitting before her in his own skin.  She blinked rapidly, trying to sit up as her frown deepened.  

“Loki, what happened?” She asked, coughing loudly, her throat dry.  

He summoned a goblet of water and offered it to her.  His heart ached to see her awake and better than he could’ve expected.  Whole.  Alive.  He waited until she set the goblet down to start in on his explanation, quickly crafting up a lie, never having been very good with the truth.  “He was mad with grief after he thought you had died and went to battle with Malekith--.”

“Loki.”  Her gaze narrowed, always good at telling when he was lying.  His words died in his throat, the well concocted story falling flat as he abandoned it and gave a quiet sigh, folding his hands in his lap and staring down at them, unwilling to bring himself to look at her.  

“I killed him.  My own death was feigned upon Svartalfaheim when I was assisting the lady Natasha and Thor in tracking Malekith down.  That monster is also dead.  Odin had plans to wait until the elves attacked Asgard once more, but Thor took the fight to them instead.  He is currently on Midgard, regaining his strength from battling the dark elves’ last member of the Akursed.  I have ensured he is safe,” he said quickly, knowing she would care more about her son’s well being than whether they had won or not. She was a true mother.  The queen kept her silence as he recounted the full story about the Aether choosing him, about Natasha’s own resilience to it and how, even when the crisis grew to be too much for her she persisted.  

About how, once Odin learned of Thor disobeying his direct orders, the Allfather had entertained the idea of simply unleashing the Bifrost upon Svartalfheim, whether or not the others were still on the realm.  Loki had learned it from his adopted father’s memories, hardly able to believe that such cruelty and malice lived in the heart of the old man.  So much for the man who Loki grew up with claiming to love his family above all others.  

And still Frigga said nothing, even when Loki had talked himself hoarse and she passed him the still mostly full goblet of water to wet his mouth.  “I’m sorry.  I did not intend on staying and ruling, not for long,” he insisted, returning the drink to her.  She didn’t take it, and he faltered.  Of course she wouldn’t want it.  He was the monster who’d killed her husband, had tried to kill Thor and enslave an entire planet.  Who’d murdered both fathers he’d had, paternal and adopted.  Without another word he stood and left the goblet on the table beside her bed, back stiffening.  

“I will be away then.  I suppose you ought to tell Thor what happened.”  He said, voice stiff.  He’d never get to see Natasha again, he supposed, or anyone else, never cause more mostly harmless mayhem once Thor knew he lived.  And Thanos would be after him the moment he heard of Loki’s deception--.

Frigga’s hand shot out to catch Loki by the wrist and tugged him into her arms, squeezing him as tight as she could until he was certain his chest might collapse from being squeezed so tight.  Not that he could ever complain, and his eyes welled with tears.  Dammit all he would not cry.  

“You saved me,” she said, voice muffled against his chest.  “You gave Thor something to fight for, and you fought valiantly along with him.  I only wish Odin could have been proud instead of blind.  He was a fool, my son, but he would have been proud. “  She promised him, clinging tighter.  Norns.  He swallowed thickly as he held fast to her, trying not to crush her in his grip, but he was simply so grateful to have her back with him, to hear her tell him that she was proud.  

A few minutes later and she pulled away, giving him a serious look.  “You cannot stay though, my love,” she said, brow creasing.  “Thor will know--you cannot stay as the Allfather.  I’m sorry--.”

He waved his hand, clearing his throat to try and even out his voice.  “I do not want it.  The throne.  Thor, the great idiot, was right.  It does not suit me.”  He said with a bitter laugh.  He hated admitting when the oaf was right.  “Odin will fall into the Sleep, from using far too much seidr to save you, and from then he will pass on.  Will that be agreeable?  None will know that I am alive, mother.  None can know.  I risk bringing harm to Asgard and you if they think I am possibly hiding here, if word ever does escape that I am alive.”  

Frigga nodded and squeezed his hand.  “Very well.  But don’t you dare stay away for too long.”  She said, suddenly serious again.  “I mean it, Loki.  I will find you and force you to return to me.”  

He allowed himself to smile, brought his lips to the back of her hands.  “You’ll sick Heimdall on me, won’t you?” He asked, a twinkle in his eye.  She snorted and hit his arm gently.  

“I’m still your mother,” she said sternly.  

“Of course, my queen,” Loki said, and in another moment he took Odin’s form once more.  “Now, rest my darling.  i will send the healers to continue caring for you.”  

Frigga smiled and kissed his cheek before he headed out.  He couldn’t help but smile, a weight lifting from his shoulders though he had to act far more exhausted than he’d felt in some time.  He had to give the people what they needed, and Frigga would be just that.  

 

Thor had come back two weeks after the attack on London, for good this time he assured the other Avengers, his spirits muted despite it being good news.  His father had, it turned out, been able to assist in bringing Frigga back to life, but at the cost of his own.  Though Thor had been offered the throne, he passed it up, and Frigga, along with the help of two other goddesses Natasha was unfamiliar with, had taken over the position as reigning monarch.  A little feminine wisdom, Natasha thought, would do the place some good.  Perhaps they might find peace as Thor sought to help defend Midgard.  

He’d moved into the tower at Stark’s request, and though she and Thor had taken to sleeping together every night, Natasha every so often needed some time to herself.  As a spy she wasn’t used to being with someone as often as Thor seemed to like, and though he was all too understanding of it, she just needed time to breathe on occasion.  

The punching bag suffered because of it tonight, Natasha’s fists pounding as quick as her heart.  Her knuckles ached and her arms burned, but it was worth it for the quickness of breath, the heat in her cheeks, the sweat pouring down her face.  

“Trouble sleeping?”

Her fist stopped on the target, her eyes widening with the realization and recognition of the voice.  She bit her bottom lip, took a deep breath, and turned around.  The bastard couldn’t have looked any more smug, hands clasped behind him, green eyes slitted in pure pleasure, black hair slicked back away from his face as he stared at her.  

“Did you miss me, Agent Romanov?”

She turned to glower at him.  “You were dead,” she deadpanned though her heart, if anything, sped up.  “I saw it happen.”  

“Yet here I stand.”  

Yes, there the bastard stood, until her fist connected with his face and sent him stumbling backwards, groaning with surprise and pain.  Natasha’s hand burned and she wouldn’t have been surprised if her hand would be bruised and swollen the next day.  None of it mattered as she closed the gap between him and swallowed whatever he might’ve said, kissing him so hard she might as well tried to suck the soul from his body.  

His hands were on her body moments later, hot and cold, tugging at the tank top until it ripped in two and fell to the floor, her sports bra following suit while her own fingers worked at the clasp of his armor, undoing the many buckles and pieces that had carefully been fitted together as quickly as she could.  She’d gotten rather good at undoing the Asgardian’s armor, and was grateful that it finally came in handy as she shoved his coat off of him and his black, leather tunic after it.  He’d dropped her pants to the ground by the time she’d finished unlacing his, and without question she sank to her knees and smirked up at him, taking his already hard cock out and swallowing it down.  It was worth it for the look of shock on his face, the way his eyes nearly popped from his skull before he groaned shamelessly and tipped his head back.  One of his hands carded through her hair, taking a fistfull of her red curls as she bobbed her head quickly, swirling her tongue around the head, taking him entirely into her mouth until her nose brushed against the thatch of black curls at the base.  She held him in her throat for a moment as her hands fondled his balls, delighting in the soft gasps and mewls of amazed pleasure as her throat tightened around him and she hummed in happiness, making Loki mutter in a slavic-based language, something about her mouth being heaven.  Already wet between her thighs, she bobbed her head a couple more times before removing her mouth with a slick, filthy pop and leaned back to toss her sweatpants to the floor.  The mat beneath her provided enough comfort as Loki lined up above her, hiking her legs up so that they bent at the knee over his shoulders, and all too soon slid into her.  She groaned, head tipping and back arching as he filled her entirely, feeling her already wet core contract around him as he pulled out, as though she was trying to keep him inside her for eternity.  It wouldn’t have been a bad idea, she had to admit.  As long as Thor was, Loki was thick, and she whimpered when he angled his hips downwards just far enough that the head of his cock brushed right against her g-spot.  Nimble fingers pressed to her clit and rubbed furiously, bringing her to a first, stunning orgasm that had her crashing and tightening around him so quickly it was a miracle she didn’t wake the others with how loud she’d started to scream.  

They cycled through a plethora of positions, Loki allowing Natasha to ride him with his hands on her full breasts, massaging them and playing with her nipples as she swiveled her hips in time, before flipping her onto all fours and rutting into her until she screamed his name into the mat, begging him to go faster.  Always he let her come, denying her nothing, though he took his sweet time with his own, slowing down only when he neared the brink and had to take a pause, take a breath and steady himself.  He wetted two fingers and pressed them slowly into her asshole as he took her from behind, stretching her out there, even bringing his tongue to slick her up enough so he could press himself into her inch by inch.  She swore she saw the Bifrost in front of her once more, her whole body numb with pleasure, and as he eased himself in, then down so he could turn her on her side, she felt him take one last, slow, shuddering breath of control before he let go.  Every scream that was wrung from her already exhausted lungs echoed between them, and his teeth sank into her throat as he finally came once more after she did, whimpering as he filled her up, the warmth between her legs burning as though her body was trying to commemorate it.  

Between gasped breaths and stolen, furiously quick kisses, they managed to say their own sort of goodbyes, Loki’s in the form of one last mark on her inner thigh, Natasha’s in the way she clawed his back and drew blood, hoping he’d let the marks scar as they did for few other men who could make her scream the way he did.  

 

She smiled as she returned to her own room, Thor still passed out in his own and none the wiser.  A small part of her felt guilty, and yet . . . She called to Jarvis to wipe the footage of the past few hours, the sun having started to rise over the horizon, repeating the override command that she’d swiped from Tony when she was still Natalie Rushman.  Only after he’d confirmed it she asked him to pull up the latest cases, asking him to bring up anything strange and magical.  Mischievous.  She had a trickster to track down.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's all there is folks! Thanks so much for reading and for all the comments! Ahh! You're all such wonderful people :DD And as ever, thanks to idamnloveorange for the prompt!


End file.
